Driver's ed

My assimilation back to Pennsylvania has been a difficult journey. That journey has gotten only more difficult the more my car clunks and clatters and beeps at me.

A few weeks ago, I finally went for my PA driver's license. That turned into an ordeal because Florida suspended my license there, oh, back in February. Seems my old insurance company has the power to get my license suspended, and then the burden is on me to somehow KNOW that and report my new insurance.

I got that mess straightened out, and even got to keep my Florida license because some idiot didn't confiscate it from me as many times as I offered to hand it over. And then I went for my plate; it took AAA only a few days to transfer my title. It was a sad day, switching the Florida plate for the PA one. I no longer have the assumed excuse that I'm an out-of-towner, so therefore I can screw up more than the average driver.


Dad and Zoe do the dirty work.

In PA, a bunch of people have to look all over your car and smear glue on the inside of your windshield and smack a piece of paper to that in order for you to be allowed to drive. I have not been able to get my car to pass the emissions inspection because of some "oxygen" problem, even though just before I left Florida I had a mechanic who claimed he had fixed all the oxygen sensors throughout my car, even the ones in the visor. The mechanic my dad recommended here wasn't able to do the work (only the dealer can, he claimed), but he was able to conquer a pesky turn signal that was out.

The mechanic did say something about a leak behind my bell housing (hey, that's personal!) and that the computer revealed a secret code that translated into engine work he did not know how to perform. Which all translates into a bill I don't want to afford.

In the meantime, my dad, being the handy guy he is, decided he was going to "fix" the panel around the inside door handle that has been busted since the last time I took it to the dealer in Florida. It seems every time I take the car somewhere to get fixed, it comes back with more things wrong with it. I avoid service like some people avoid dentists.

Anyway, my dad mentioned after driving my car yesterday that the door was sticking. Sticking is an understatement. When I tried to open the door last night, it was like the world's largest wad of bubble gum was wedged in the door. The entire door panel had come loose and was jammed, and at that point I was still unaware my dad had attempted his little "fix."

For my entire drive to return movies, the car chirped at me. Not in a consistent, rhythmic manner, but in the most haphhazard, annoying, screwball manner you can imagine.

Be-beeeeeeep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-be-be-beep. Beep-beep. Beeeeep. Beeeeeeee-be-be-be-be-be-be-be-beeeep.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

By the time I got to Joe's house, I was WEEPING. I figured the stupid mechanic did something to the car, and if I had his home number, he would have gotten an earful right at that moment.

It got better. At precisely 3:35 in the morning, the car alarm started blaring.



As soon as I hit my desk at work this morning, I was on the phone with the credit union. It's time for a new car. In the meantime, I have to remember to not set the alarm and to enter the car from the passenger side. In my condition, that's just damn entertaining.

Glad to be back in PA. There are plenty of gullies and hills and walls and valleys and rivers into which I can drive head-first if I get desperate.