Cars Suck

Beware, this post is a long rant.

Last Thursday, at 6 am, I hopped in my car and began the drive to the Dayton, OH area. The purpose of the trip was two-fold. One: drive my little brother Connor back. He had been staying up here with me and visiting his friends. Two: Attend my cousin Darrell’s wedding. Noble cause!

Being someone who skips through songs like crazy, I vowed I not to do that and listen to everything that came up on the zune. I did it too. I discovered that my zune loves to play Black Flag. Ceaselessly.

Anyways, we finally made it into Ohio and we’re about 3.5 hours from Dayton, when my car’s temperature light goes on and the temp gauge’s needle is as far to the right as possible. I stop the car and let it cool for a few minutes. Start it up again and drive a few moments before the temperature flies up again. I say to myself “fuuccckkk”. I manage to drive the motor as cool as possible to Ravenna, OH where after having a dude at a local shop take a look at it, I decide to get it towed to a VW dealer’s service department and get a hotel for the night. Turns out, the fins on the water pump cracked in half! Luckily, the repairs were covered under the powertrain warranty and it didn’t cost me a thing. Except for a heart attack and some time. After the work was done we hit the road almost exactly 24 hours after we initially broke down and arrived at the time we would have on Thursday. Funny how things work out like that.

The good news is that the engine runs at its proper temperature. The bad news is that there is a brand new problem. When braking at lower speeds, it sounds as if a portal to Hell is being opened in the rear drive side wheel well. I’ve checked for hellspawn but can’t find any. Not sure what’s wrong but its all just icing on the cake.

Anyways, since you’re supposed to think of shitty experiences as “adventures” after all is said and done, I’ve got some highlights below the fold.As soon as I hit New York from MA, I started hearing it: that fucking redneck accent. The tow truck driver was a guy in his late 20’s early 30’s I’d say. He was big in that big boned redneck sorta way. He wore those sort of thuggish type clothes and his ass crack was hanging out. Anyways, he spoke with the most pure redneck accent you’ll ever hear (if you don’t know what I mean by redneck accent, think Boomhauer from King of the Hill. Slow his speech down to a speed where you can beging to make out words). What’s funny is that he told me he had just moved to Ohio a few years ago and when I asked him where he was from he said “New Jurzey”. New Jersey? I didn’t think they had that redneck accent there. I guess David Cross was right when he talks about that fucking accent being all over the country. I’m going to start listening for the dumb fuck redneck accent more often when I’m in Seabrook.

To check into this motel I stayed at, you had to buzz to be allowed into this little 5ft x 4ft room. Inside, the Indian lady proprietor takes your information and money. Not a big space but it gets the job done. On one of the walls was a bulletin board with typical motel crap: some business cards, fliers for local events, numbers for pizza, stuff like that. In the middle of the bulletin board was a poster. Positioned in such a deliberate way, you could tell someone was trying to tell you something. It showed a closeup of a man’s face. Sort of regular looking guy but you could tell there was something worrying about his expression. Then you realize that he has a small white powder covering his nose. Then you realize the big “GOT ADDICTION?” above the guy’s head. Then you notice the 1-800 addiction help line number. Then you realize, you’ve stayed at the right place.

I checked into the motel and got settled in, took a shower, called some people. My little brother had passed out on one of the beds. It had been a few hours since I last ate and I decided to go over to the mexican restaurant/bar to get some food. I walked in and discovered the kitchen had been closed. Down on my luck, I started drinking beer. Eventually, I made friends with the mexican lady bartender and even though the kitchen was closed, she made me tacos. Best tacos I’ve ever had too.

Overall, aside from the car bullshit, the trip was nice but extremely short. I arrived late friday evening, and left at 4:00 am on sunday.

posted by chantron on July 21, 2008 and tagged as cars, Life, sucks.