The one dream I held on to despite all the strife in my life over the past 5 years? The desire to own a Mini Cooper. On October 3, 2011 that dream became a reality. And on October 7 it was on a tow truck. Yes, the dream of owning a Mini was realized, but so was the realization that some dreams can turn into nightmares very quickly. Here's "Coop" on her first trip to the dealership.
Yes, I said first trip. The adventure of "Coop" had just begun. The car was on a tow truck on that Friday because as I drove to work and went to a paved road from a dirt road, the front left of the car began to sound like I was killing puppies under the tire. I drove a short way, called a friend, hung the phone out of the window and asked what he would do if his car sounded like that... He quickly yelled, "Stop driving it! Put it on a tow truck!" So, that's what I did, but only after getting out and feeling my brakes to see if the left front roater was substancially warmer than the others... it was. I then called the tow truck.
As the kind tow truck driver loaded my precious car onto it's flatblead I texted my dear friend, Kate, and asked her how early was too early to begin dreaking. She's my girlfriend for a reason. Her response? As long as it's mixed with something it's perfectly acceptable to drink before noon. Hello Mimosa.
(Hey Mom, if you're reading this, it was AFTER noon that Kate and I went to the Rio and had a Marg... Don't worry - not an alcoholic.)
I rode in the tow truck to the dealership where I marched my happy self into the service department and demanded that someone pay for my tow. The very nice men looked at me a bit puzzled, and they asked what was wrong. I promptly told them that I had purchased a car from them on Monday and it was on the tow truck out back, not even 5 days into my care. The looked a little perpelexed, said they couldn't help, and that my salesman would be able to help me.
I marched my happy self across the street to the sales area, and as I walked in another sales man very kindly asked if he could help me. Very loudly I proclaimed that yes, yes he could help me. A car I purchased from his dealership on Monday was on a tow truck in service, and it was only Friday. He then quickly ushered me to a back office and asked me to wait for the manager. All the while he looked at me a bit puzzled. The entire time I thought it was because of my near-tears emotional state...
The kind manager came in, and once he saw me he prompltly told me they would figure out what was wrong with my beloved car. They would handle it, and would I like a ride somewhere? I told him I was fine - I just needed to go across the street to pick up a baby gift at the Boot Barn. Silly baby gift, I know, but I love to buy my friends little, ittty bitty cowboy boots. Silly, but who else is going to buy them a pair?
As I walked in to the Boot Barn I looked in one of their copious mirrors, and low and behold, my entire face was covered in brake dust. Fantastic! The tow truck driver, service guy, sales guy, and sales manager had all been treated me so oddly because of the fantastic war paint I had on my face.
Great. I was mortified, but I think it helped me get a free service and tow out of them...
It turns out "Coop" had picked up a rock into the brake, and the brake was crushing it onto the roter. Thank goodness I had stopped because the damage could have been much more had I not stopped when I did.
The adventures didn't stop there... stay tuned for dead batteries, emergency escapes, frozen doors, kind truckers from Kentucky, and engineers at holiday parties. And yes, I still own and love the car...
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