Growin’ Up – a blog about life after Smith by Lauren Kaelin ’10 : Independent Women

August 18, 2010

Margaret and I just moved into a new house sitting location complete with cozy animals. This past week has pretty hectic what with moving and all. And made all the worse by CAR TROUBLE.

Ok, I should preface this by saying that Margaret and I kind of knew what we were getting ourselves into with this car situation. Toledo is not really  a city where you can walk places. Everyone takes the expressway to the grocery store. Everything takes 1 hour on foot and 12 minutes by car.

The car we’re driving—a 1995 baby blue Toyota affectionately called Bluey—was given to Margaret for free. It lasted a few weeks without problems, but then a few things went wrong…

  1. The exhaust system had to be replaced.
  2. They botched the replacement of the exhaust system and it had to re-replaced.
  3. Our battery bolts were… rusted?

You know, as far as car trouble goes, we’ve been pretty lucky. Not stranded in the middle of a blizzard, or on a freeway. But being in one of these situations really makes you wish you knew more people.

The third time we had to pick up our car from AAA we had to take a taxi to the outskirts of Toledo. The cab had worn blue upholstery, smelled like my grandmother’s house, and had no idea where AAA was. The cab cost $23—complete with a few wrong turns—and cleaning of the bolts of the battery cost $47.

My point in bringing this up—car trouble tests your independence. Margaret and I quickly realized after dropping Bluey off at AutoConnection that we had no idea what could be wrong, no idea how much it could cost, and no idea how we could get the car back. 1hr 20min walk to AutoConnection along Monroe St in our business casual in 95 degrees?

You have to ask for help.

The third time Bluey died outside a small shopping center, I hailed downed a man named John. In the midst of what felt like a flash flood in the Panera parking lot, John jumpstarted our car. And the second time Bluey died, the Interim Director at the Museum drove us to the mechanics and took us out to lunch. And the first time, when Bluey sounded like a thunderous motorcycle, my supervisor drove us home and we brought in blueberry muffins for her the next day.

All the honeys who makin’ money
Throw your hands up at me
All the mommas who profit dollas
Throw your hands up at me

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