My car is in a coma.
The clutch went out.
In the middle of a major intersection. On the way to Fred Meyer's. Because we were out of toilet paper. And I need to get razor blades to shave my legs.
My kid was in the car.
The clutch joins the battery. The speedometer. The fan belt. The fuel pump. Two sets of tires. The original clutch. The engine. The windshield wiper motor and a 75 cent bolt that cost 100 bucks in CHECK ENGINE LIGHT diagnostics.
Fuck this fucking day.
That car has some fucked up karma.
Even if it is a Subaru.
My boyfriend and I bought it six years ago from his parents. It was three years old then and had 70,000 miles on it. They were the original owners.
Its got about 150,000 miles now.
That boyfriend is now my ex-husband.
We moved to California (and back) in that car. We drove our baby home from the hospital in that car when it was 28 below zero.
We replaced it with a new car which he kept in the divorce. I bought a new engine for the old car because I was in self flagellation mode. Also, I had the cash for a new engine and I didn't want to take out any debt.
The car is the only real THING that I still have from the marriage.
I really want to get rid of it.
It is in a coma at the mechanic's.
I could pull the plug and get rid of it and get about a grand for the shell.
Or I could resuscitate it for a thousand bucks and not have to buy a new car with all those piles of money that I don't have.