FL Gutter.com

Chronicle: The Weekend From Hell (a true story)

Monday morning to reach my workplace waved my co-workers "TGIM (Thank God It's Monday)."

After the laughter died for one of my old friends said, "You got it Frankie fucking is TGIF (thank God it's Friday) "

"Aue contraire," I replied. "When you have experienced" the end week of hell, Monday (not Friday) is the day all the pain and suffering has ended, disasters have disappeared, and my life has returned to some semblance of normality. "

I can not say that all portents and warning signs were not there. They were, but my joy usually almost euphoric state of mind that comes with the weekend, my vision blurred, and left all signs invisible.

With 20/20 hindsight, the first of several forbodeing dark clouds and rolling on the horizon was the departure of my wife flew to Los Angeles to v9isit his mother and stepfather ill. That was a strike ball game in my weekend with the target.

The second strike whizzed by when my daughter announced that she and her husband were heading to Florida to attend a wedding, and I had been chosen to care for my grandson and granddaughter (7 and 8 years old, respectively) for the weekend. Face it, what else could choose with my wife gone and his nurse scheduled vacation.

The third attack occurred when I came home from work Friday night at 4 in the afternoon and found my cat (actually just a kitten), sitting transfixed, like a miniature version of the Great Sphinx

in El Giza, Egypt. It sat in silence (stone cold dead) in the middle of the living room floor with a painful and sad look on his face.

Later that night I turned my Cites 94 my daughter's house to pick up my grandchildren, who at that time were in the time engaged in a shortened version of WWWIII. He quickly agreed to a ceasefire when he promised to take a McDonald's time at the weekend.

I went straight to an empty apartment that was our property an appointment to show various tenants. Of the several regular partners to see the apartment, some did not show up and those who did not look like people from another planet, if you understand me.

After the last two, it was 5:30 pm, rush hour in the center of the city, and traffic was bumper to bumper. I was in a line long in a steep pending a red light to change when I heard a faint, almost inaudible click from somewhere deep in the bowels of my car. When light changed, stepped on the accelerator and the car would not move. Gear was in vain. The car was not going forward or backward. The man behind me was in a van with a tandem trailer time behind him, and when he saw that we were disabled, dup backed down and that gave us enough space to drift backward diagonal in a designated customer parking space for a large painting, glass, and store supplies. He greeted me one of the employees of a store and said they did that move as soon as we could.

The temperature was in the 90s and humidity was high. When we started the block of 10-minute walk back to our apartment, My grandson started collecting little things from the gutter, like a rusty tin of Copenhagen snuff, he wanted to use as a drinking cup. Then I put the caps in this little project that started finding sticks to put your sister. Then they sang the question "When are we going to McDonald's?"

I said, "Wait, you forgot that we have a car and the nearest McDonald's is the mall (about 2.3 miles away). His response" But Grandpa, I could walk ".. That did it! I led her upstairs to the apartment and made them cheese sandwiches.

The next morning, after to discuss my problems with a car a friend, I decided that my transmission has been limited to stay dry. Fortunately (I thought) I have a ROV (Van Old Rat) I can wear to find the transmission fluid and a funnel. My optimistic side told me that a transfer could not be broken, just low on fluid.

I went downstairs, got into the ROV, put the key in the ignition and turned. Nothing happened, not even a click. Later I learned that my wife had forgotten to turn off the overhead light when she was five days ago. Then I called my son to ask if he had a car that could take if he needed for work on Monday morning. He said: "Of course, I have an old car that belonged to a friend of mine who stayed with me to sell after he had bought a new car. He said apologetically that the body was all mangled, but it was manageable. After talking with him I went down and attached my trickle charger very slow in the truck battery.

At this point I decided to walk to the auto parts store for transmission fluid. After walking 10 blocks (with grandchildren in tow, of course) I bought 4 liters of transmission fluid and a funnel length. Back at the car I followed the instructions on the bottle and determined from the dipstick for transmission fluid level was fine so the only conclusion was that the transmission was probably kaput!

After the long journey back to the apartment, which was finally able to get to the store by telephone transmission. They promised to free towing, but I did not know how soon it could, but I thought that probably some time Monday morning.

T down to the van to see if the battery charger had done its work and again inserted the key and got no response, not even a click. I told myself that afternoon, I would call my son and have him deliver the Republic of China (crappy old car), so we have a way to work on Monday morning.

When I called, reported that it had sold the car I was going to pay and hours before I called and the buyer had initiated and following it.

At this point the history of terror was far from over and believe me, I'm not doing any of this up. My son promised he would come and start my ROV therefore have the transport to work. He did, and then was late Sunday afternoon, I decided I would go over to a neighboring village about 3 miles to ensure that the battery was fully charged. I loaded the two grandchildren and left. Everything was going well until the ROV muffler fell off and dragged on the pavement. Me stopped, took what was left of it off and went on, the van sounded like a hot rod to double Smitty mufflers.

Next morning, the transmission shop sent a driver to my workplace to get the keys of my car with disabilities. When I got to work that night I went to complete ROV Smitty double transmission of sound on the tent. I was informed that the transmission was completely shot and since this model has a torque converter, there would be no cost additional $ 250 above $ 550 for the transmission work.

By this time he was beaten so by the whole thing I just give my credit card and told them to go ahead and do the reconstruction. The straw that broke the camel's back was when I finally got the car back on Thursday. and found a $ 15 parking ticket issued by local police at 7:50 am, about 15 minutes before the crane of the transmission shop had arrived. I just shook his head and began to mumble something about this case is enough to enrage the man "humor."

About the Author

Frank Ernhart, retired engineer, auctioneer, internet marketer,writer, webmaster (http://www.frankernhart.com)

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