2:15pm – Saturday May 17, 2008
If you haven’t noticed I spent a week in Washington D.C. visiting my brother. It was one of those rare occasions where I get to relax, hang out with my brother and his girlfriend, and not worry about work or school. Sadly all that is good has to come to an end.
As I am typing this I am in my uncle’s car (keep reading why it’s my uncle’s car,) somewhat awkwardly position in the backseat, holding on for dear life. Well, I might be exaggerating a little, but I assure you that I am holding on!
This whole road trip began when my brother and uncle had this brilliant idea to buy a car. A car that is in D.C.. The problem is that I, as does my uncle, live in Louisville – Kentucky. No problem. I can go out to D.C. with my brother, in his girlfriend’s car, and then for the ride back we’ll take the new newly acquired car.
The car might be new to my uncle, but there’s nothing new about it. He paid $300 for it. That right there should tell you everything. I yet have to see a car for $300 that can make the trip from D.C. to Louisville. That’s 600 miles I believe. So at 60mp/h it should take us around 10 hours of driving. The car, as you assumed by now, doesn’t exactly work. It’s a 1984 (it’s older than me!) Volkswagen Rabbit GTI. You know one of those rare cars. It’s so rare that even junkyards can’t find them. Anyway, even before my uncle leaves for D.C. my brother informs him that the car won’t stay on. Something is wrong with it. Imagine that. Besides being broken, it’s dirty. The rear driver window is a puzzle, and there’s mold on the seats.
Yeah, very rare indeed.
You’d think at this point my uncle would say, “Just sell it.” I wish.
This Idea wouldn’t have been half bad if my uncle had a truck, or some kind of car with a high output engine and preferable four wheel drive. However, the problem is that he doesn’t. He does have two Jettas though. One of them is my cousin’s car, a ’98 Jetta. The other one is his, a ’89 Jetta. Now you can imagine my cousin needs her car, so no way in hell is she giving that up. No biggy. He’s got old faithful. What could possibly go wrong?
4:24pm Saturday May 17, 2008
All seemed well at first. We were 60 miles outside of D.C., surprisingly the Jetta was able to pull us, the rust bucket, and itself at 65mph. However, like every automobile the Jetta needs that thing called gas. We pull in, pump up, snack up, ready up, and get ready for the road. As my uncle is turning to pull out hear this sudden sound, kind of like SNAP (imagine that)! Oh you guessed it, the tow bar snapped. It broke. It gave up on life. This is where the real adventure starts.
There we were in the middle of nowhere 70 miles outside of D.C. 530 miles away from home, with a broken tow bar. Not much fun. Good thing we were stranded on a gas station right? They know where shit is? Wrong. I asked if they knew of any hardware stores where we could find another tow bar. Nope. Closest one was another 40 miles away. Pretty close I have to say. So I pick up the yellow pages to call the tool store and ask if they have a tow bar. You know, so we don’t drive there only to find out they don’t.
Ring Ring Ring
Me: Hi, do you guys have a tow bar?
Lady: A what?!
Me: A tow bar.
Lady: No, bye.
Friendly people I have to say. Don’t get me wrong the ladies at the gas station were really nice, but as you can tell the woman that answered at the car parts store was a complete beeotch.
Well after two hours of trying to figure out what to do my uncle decides to ask the next door McDonald’s to leave the car in their parking lot till next week, since it’s a huge parking lot and all. And guess what? They said “no problem.” Thank god. So to make a long story short. We left the car at a random McDonald’s somewhere in the United States (we have their phone number and all) and continued on our 530 mile long trip.
Nothing exciting happened throughout the trip. I was home at 2am, and that’s about it.