Say good bye to The Big Ride, ladies and gentlemen.
My amazing car blew up on me. July 7 was the day. A day that will live in infamy.
Got it towed on July 8. Today is July 18. Still don't have it back.
How do you feel about that?
Needs some air bladder thingy, which apparently is being walked over to the U.S from Australia. Or maybe it's like getting a liver transplant. Maybe I have to wait for somebody else's 2004 Lincoln Town Car to expire before they can remove the bladder, pack it in ice, and ship it to good ole Henniker.
Doesn't fucking matter. I'm just waiting to get it back so I can trade it in.
When I bought this beauty I made the assumption that, because it is a Lincoln, it will last forever. Figured I would drive it for a bunch of years and when it finally gave up the ghost I would run right out and buy another Lincoln.
I was wrong. The car has not been a pain in the ass but the pace of repairs has accelerated over the last two years.
I don't want to deal with it anymore. I'm tired of it.
Breaks my heart.
I am not in the position to buy another Lincoln. My dream of riding in luxury until I am laid in a luxury casket is shattered.
Now I just don't give a shit. Just want a car. Any car. Preferably something that runs.
I'm thinking of making an ironic statement. Thinking about getting me a Ford Pinto. The one that was famous for bursting into flames in the seventies. Gotta be some fucking low life criminal that has one or two of those hanging around just looking to sell it to a guy like me.
I will drive it like a madman too. Tempting fate. I'll set it up with a secret compartment that can hold a 1.75 liter bottle of Crown Royal. With a hose. A hose I can suck on and easily conceal if the coppers come around.
So I'm just waiting. Not waiting on a friend, as The Stones sang about. Just waiting. Just fucking waiting.
Waiting to see some goddamn specialist dude about the hip. Got an appointment for this coming Thursday.
Fucking medical community. They get all up in arms. Holy shit - you got a fractured hip. We gotta get you in here. You gotta get a cane. You gotta be careful. You gotta ride in a car with a luxury air bladder in it.
Then they keep me waiting three weeks.
Meanwhile, unfortunately and disconcertingly, the pain has increased.
I am riding a bubble of negativity. Unfortunate. But that's the way it goes. You know the feeling. I know you do.
But I am a very positive guy. Always looking on the bright side. Cheerful and encouraging. With me the glass is always half full. Especially when it has whiskey in it.
I know that in a couple of weeks I'll be riding around in my Pinto and the hip will have been dealt with.
I will win Powerball to the tune of $675 million bucks, I will buy a second home in Arizona, a third in Hawaii. I will join a health club, lose twenty pounds and get a call from Johnny Depp asking me to co-star in his next flick. I will finally take Carol to Niagara Falls. I will be invited to tour with The Stones.
Yeah, baby, life is a thrill-a-minute joy ride, ain't it?
My future's so bright I gotta wear shades.