Its that time again!

Turns out Imaginary Kenny was right. I did hit something. Something indeed.

Whether it was a rock, or a hunk of black ice, or spiked mace placed in the road by the devil himself, the object in question somehow ripped a hole in my transmission. And yesterday, as Matt and I went sliding down the snowy hill of doom, a stringy trail of fluid the color of burnt sienna was left in our wake.

Then the check engine light decided to alert me something was wrong.

Scott and Chelsea came to our aid, as we were on our way to go have lunch with them anyway. Taking advice from Real Kenny, the boys went to get more transmission fluid in hopes that the leak was a slow one and we would be able to make it two blocks home. Chels and I waited in the car waving by the endless amount of gracious people that stopped to check on us. Including some parents of my students.

Don't get me wrong - it is wonderful that I live in a town where so many people are kind enough to stop for strangers. But I hate to burst people's bubble after they triumphantly run down to my car, happy to be doing their good deed for the day.

"Nope. Sorry. Where just waiting. Thanks for stopping." Over and over again. And to my defense, in Missouri Driver's Ed class, I was taught NOT to talk to strangers when your car breaks down. I was told to call Triple A, sit in the car with the doors locked and wait.

Honestly, do you think if I was desperate for help I would just be sitting calmly in my car just waiting for someone to pull off to the side and rescue me? No that would be more like the time I was pacing up and down the sidewalk in front of the AutoZone in a state that doesn't match my license plates talking on my cell phone with tears streaming down my face. That's when I need help. Luckily an Angel in khaki pants and a blue collar name badge that said "Kelly" decided to spent the next four hours replacing my alternator. For nothing but a handshake.

I have Kenny's boss looking at my car now. My gut tells me it's just a leak. I've had two cars that pooped out their transmission. Before yesterday, Rosie has shown no signs of transmission failure. She's been running great for the last 5 months. But the thing is....do I want to fork out ANOTHER couple hundred dollars? With as much money as we sink into that car every few months we might as well be making car payments AND have someone take our car away for a week at a time.

I don't know.

The thing is, it is so frustrating trying to coordinate my work schedule, my other work schedule, Matt's work schedule, and Matt's school schedule with ONE SINGLE CAR. That is why we pay top dollar for a close apartment no bigger than a shoebox. If it weren't for the awesome friends we have....I don't know what we would do to get to work. I am eternally grateful to them all. Kenny, Aubrey, Scott&Chelsea, Andy&Lacey, Bill.

The real kicker is...I knew this was going to happen. Believe it or not. About a week before Christmas, I got a feeling of doom I couldn't ignore, like I always do before the car or computer fritz out. I now account that to the reason I was so nauseous and for all the dizzy headaches. I would just walk around the apartment so anxious I didn't know what to do with myself. I kept thinking...something is wrong. Then the rational side of myself, as small as it is, would say just relax, nothing is wrong. But I couldn't.

The sad thing is: It wasn't Rosie's fault this time. It was mine. Or the Devil's. Investigation is still underway.