I’m not wearing my boot.
I quit! I can’t honestly be expected to wear that walking boot for four to six weeks when my ankle is perfectly fine. I took it off on Saturday, and I haven’t felt a twinge or stab of pain yet. I think it was a scheme, I have good insurance, and I’m not putting it back on again. (I am being very stubborn about this.)
Now, on to the Mini-news. Forget the fact that we were supposed to get it two weeks ago, and how nice that would have been. Let me explain what happened this weekend because we DIDN’T get it.
Sunday, I went shopping with Sandy at Concord Mills. It is an outlet shopping mall about twenty-five minutes from our house. We’ve been having some trouble getting the Blazer to start, but it would fire up on the second or third try, so I didn’t hesitate. The Jeep has been sitting in the garage since we ordered the mini (about two months ago) to try to keep miles and problems to a minimum for when we trade it in. On the surface, everything was good to go. Sandy and I made our purchases, and parted ways. I sat down in the Blazer, said quietly to myself, “Please start,” and tried the key. No luck. Try again. No again. Try, try, try… no, no, no. It just revs and revs and revs, but it wont catch. The engine wont start. (I probably did a number on the starter, but I was starting to panic.)
I called Brock and said he might want to get in the Jeep and come get me. He said that he noticed that one of the tires went flat, but he’d change the tire and come on out. He said to try to get ahold of the mall security, and ask if they knew any way to help. So while he’s trying to change the tire, I get Mall Security to drive over. He said, “Just let me pull up, and I’ll give you a jump.” No, I don’t need a jump. The battery is fine, it’s just that the engine wont start. He looks at me like I’m profoundly simple, and asks, “Well, what do you expect me to do then?”
Back on the phone with Brock. He can’t find the handle for the jack to pump up the Jeep and change the tire. Nearing the end of my rope, I finally call Sandy and ask if I can bum a ride home. I said, “Hey… I feel like a huge jerk asking this… but I’m still at the mall, and my car wont sta…” She immediately cut me off, “You’re still at the mall and you’re just calling me NOW?!” It had been about an hour, and I was finally really sure that the truck wasn’t going to start. So she says, sure, she’ll drive me home.
About half way home, my phone rings. Brock says, “I was cleaning out the Jeep and I found the jack-arm. So I was able to change the tire, but I’m sure it’s probably too late.” It was. We pulled up to the house, and I invited Sandy and her husband Bill in to meet Brock, as they previously hadn’t. Brock offered to take them out to dinner as a thanks for giving me a ride home. Bill asked, “Do you want to take our car, or yours?” I offered ours, since Brock had so recently cleaned it out. We jump in, turn the key in the ignition…and NOTHING. He had taken too long cleaning the car out with the doors open, and the battery died.
All those words just to say that both of our cars were out of commission in one single day, and all because that damn Mini still isn’t here to get rid of all my problems. Well, not all of them. But I need this car.