Breaking Up With Chevy

Dear Cobalt of mine, Chevy (and you Chevy service department),
I am writing you this letter to let you know that we are most likely never going to make this work. I know I can't blame you for the tire of death or the fact that every time I get into my car and touch the steering wheel it grills my fingers like hot dogs it is so blasted hot but there are a few things that I can blame you for. I find it very inconvenient that every time I set my treble/bass levels to get just the right bump, you automatically set it back to the boring snoozefest levels it was at before whenever I change the station. I also blame you for the annoyance you cause me when you decide that shifting from one gear to the next doesn't need to be a smooth transition but a good hard jolt to make sure I am still awake. Well guess what Chevy, I am awake. The latest issue has just slammed the last nail into the coffin, why is it that you feel like every window in my car, besides the one window I need to roll down, should roll down smoothly? I know you are five years old but cars don't work in dog years or else that Corolla in the most recent Toyota commercial is immortal because they passed it down to their two, TWO, sixteen year old daughters. Even if you were to count in dog years, you would only be 35. 35 years old isn't even middle aged yet so I think you should take that into consideration before you start acting like you are going through car menopause with all your hot flashes and achy joints. I know this isn't all your fault car. I know the service department is the cause of most of these problems seeing that every time I take you in I receive you back in a lesser condition. See this time. But I can't really handle it anymore and will probably be jumping ship soon.

Sorry.

P.S. If you are doing all of this to get back at me for this time when I managed to scarily maneuver you through a fence and a pole, it wasn't my fault, not to mention you didn't even received a single scratch.

3 Weeks?

According to blogger I haven't blogged in 3 weeks. I could just say that I wanted to give everyone time to read Nick's half birthday post but I won't. Where have I been? Most people disappear from their blog when they are pregnant and can't hold anything down long enough to type out a single sentence, however this is not the case with me. I am not with child, I am with stuff to do. When the weather is nice outside, I am sucked outside like a moth to the light. The Summer time is my favorite time, no more depressing mornings, no more roads covered in snow to worry about, no more wondering if when I open my garage it will be blocked by 5 feet of snow. But there are things to worry about, so here is what you get for waiting those three whole weeks to read another lame post by me...

Friday, June 18, my great grandma Lewis passed away. Now before anyone writes that they are sorry in the comments, you should know that she was 95 and had definitely served her time here. She was ready to go and we were ready for her to go. However I have the feeling that televangelists will see quite the drop in their monthly revenues and her Bible will miss being opened every day. Well I decided that I was going to go visit my grandma DeLange and take her some flowers because those make everyone feel better. I am driving on the freeway and talking to Sarah when I here this strange noise in front of me followed by a giant black flying saucer coming straight for my car. Did I swerve? Absolutely not. I didn't have much time to do anything before it smashed into my car and my heart started beating so fast I couldn't breathe. I would also like to point out that I didn't curse, almost, but didn't. When I got to Costco I got out of my car to look at the roof of it for any damage, nothing too bad, just some black skid marks from the almost tire of death. I walked into costco and before I bought flowers I took my blood pressure which informed me that I should seek medical attention immediately. Not really. I proceeded to buy flowers and headed over to grandma's. On my way out of grandma's house my mom was informing me that I probably should have gotten a license plate number but I tried to reassure her that no damage was done and besides that I had to get off the road as soon as possible because driving 65 while in cardiac arrest is not safe. The sun was hitting the windshield just right and I saw it, a big HUGE crack. I believe this is the point when I cursed. Now I am driving my car around with a broken windshield and I hate it but hey, at least I didn't eat tire for breakfast that morning.