So remember when that wall just jumped out of nowhere while I was leaving my parking garage and I scraped my car so badly that I cried all the way home? No?
Well yes. That happened.
After getting a few quotes and discussing things with the assessor it was decided that it would be best to actually cut a section out of the body and replace it along with the door. In other words, that wall did a number on my car and I still get mad about it. Freaking wall.
Anyway, my insurance is awesome and so I got a new car yesterday. A rental. I’m not sure what it is exactly except to say that it’s white and a VW. I think. The really nice driver asked me to fill in some forms, took my refundable deposit and went on his merry way, leaving me to figure out how to make this car go into the garage.
Now, when I explain these anxieties to the men in my life (i.e my husband and business partner) they can’t understand what on Earth is wrong with me. Just get into the car and drive it.
OK.
So we all get into the car, the kids already getting sand all over the back seats. I try not to freak out at them touching every little thing that they could touch. Each time they saw something they pointed with excitement – look Mommy – that’s new! Not a gear lever, cup holder, light switch or button was left unnoticed.
Then we sat there as I put in the key and turned it on. Nothing happened.
I tried again. And again. And again. Doing nothing differently but willing it to start – the same way that my kids expect me to whip up water while we’re driving home in the car.
Nothing.
Eventually the car spoke to me.
I’m not even joking – on the little speeometre it said “press clutch”. Aaaaaah. There’s is life here.
So I pulled straight into the garage without making space for Seth’s car on the other side, realised that I had to reverse and then spent another 3 (long) minutes trying to figure out what the flipping heck was going on.
Finally got it and successfully pulled into my section of the garage. Sweating and on edge. (Totally rational when pulling your car into the garage right?)
Then my long suffering husband and I took a drive around the neighbourhood so that I could feel more comfortable in the car before heading out in the traffic this morning. Thankfully I was starting to feel better about the whole process and we headed home.
But obviously it couldn’t end there.
Feeling confident and ready to tackle this drive to school and work, we headed out to the car this morning. I always put my goodies in the boot and yesterday, when the guy dropped off the car he said I just needed to press the button on the keys to open it. I pressed the button. The boot unclicks but stays down. So I try and wedge my little fingers under to lift it up. It doesn’t budge. I press all over the freaking thing, trying to find a secret button of sorts. I even pushed the “VW” circle a couple of times. Nothing. Working myself into another (totally rational) state, I started dialing Seth. As the phone was ringing I was pressing more and more things, eventually hitting the VW sign in frustration and the boot popped up. ‘Are you even kidding me? I pressed that!”
Anyway, long story short I eventually made it to work on time without any further incidents. Hooray!
Now all that I have to worry about is driving around Cape Town with a GP license plate.
Am I the only one that struggles with this type of thing?
