Given the Choice, I'll Smile
The other week or so my antenna wouldn't go down when Charlie and I took my car to my favorite car wash. They told me that it wasn't going down, but I really wanted my car washed (and I love it when they clean it all nice and spotless on the inside), so I told them to go ahead and run it through. Well, yup, it broke. Actually it bent, but when Charlie tried to straighten it, it broke. We looked at it when we got home, and until I can get it fixed (no money, no time, no fix) we took some tape to it. Go ahead and laugh, we have.
Then that sweet little old lady hit my car, which I haven't had fixed yet. One reason, if anyone cares, is because it bothered me that the two places I took it to wanted to see the estimate the insurance company had sent me before they'd give me an estimate. Why? I asked them to give me estimates before I got the papers from her insurance company telling me how much they'd pay me based on their appraiser, so it made me feel as if they'd make sure their estimate would be at least as much as the appraiser had quoted. Seriously, why should their estimates have anything to do with the appraisers estimate? Maybe I just didn't feel comfortable with these auto repair shops, maybe I still have an issue with trust from what was done with Casey's car...or maybe I'm an idiot. Oh, hush, I'm going with I was uncomfortable and I listen to my 'gut'.
So, here I am driving a car that has the driver side caved in, a drivers side window that will not go down without holding on to it and, likewise, you have to hold it in place to make it go back up, and an antenna that is held together with scotch tape.
I am seriously about as white trash as they come.
And yet, still I smile.