Last year I had a simple job and read Dr. Seuss to Tacoma kiddos for all of March 2nd. This year it was me and my volvo and a day of visiting schools.
As a side note: KingHenryZebra is my very first car, that I bought nearly 10 years after most lucky kids get their first car, and she is a zippy silver little beauty. I'd fight anybody for her.
But back to the day. It started yesterday morning as we headed to the Alexandria office. Parallel parking on the left side of the street equaled epic failure. But it was a two hour spot and I had faith no one would side swipe me that fast.
We later maneuvered the GW parkway towards DC and the traffic circles and the one-way streets that become on ramps that become accidental highways out of the city and we landed, finally, in two-hour parking on the right side this time. Phew!
Moving on she cradled me and I white-knuckled her as we took 30 minutes to go about two miles to the road that boots us out of DC and away from all my driving phobias combined. Yes, that's 30 minutes complete with potholes I was sure did more damage than my mystery tire-slasher from Tacoma. It was a bumpy, nerve-wracking ride.
Inside the car I was struggling. Remember the mungries? Well holy hunger I needed food and calming. Inside my purse I rummaged, eyes on the road, to find anything edible in my bag. Granola wrappers. Lip gloss. Stale mints. Mustard packets. Gross! I don't even like mustard. How I wished I could snap my fingers and have my mother's purse magically trade places with my own. She's prepared like a grandmother should be - with gummies and cheez-its and Little Debbie cakes galore.
I settled on the melt away mint until finally, well outside the beltway, I found a Chick-Fil-A to save my life.
The stories continued. Running over the trash of Baltimore: Sprite bottles, nondescript black corner-store bags, etc. Stop and go traffic on the spur with the DC-Rockville commuter crew. And finally home sweet home to my Arlington digs with a perfect parking spot near the main door. KingHenryZebra and I had returned from our epic day and needed rest before J-Man stole her back in the morning.
Do you know where this story is going though?
Did you really think that was it?
Did you forget this is the girl who got her tires slashed her first night living in Tacoma?
Who got a dresser of a random girl stuck in her trunk when an act of service met a rear-ending on 66.
Who took three tries to successfully change her license to her married name.
Who ran into a cement pillar in a parking garage
I was not meant to drive. I am not lucky with cars.
So I shouldn't have been shocked to receive the frantic call from J-Man as I began my remote search routine. I should've known when he asked where I parked that he wasn't blind and that something had gone wrong.
By the time I threw on my dirty sweatshirt and jeans and met him at the front desk we knew.
Those jerks had towed KingHenry
Why? you ask. "Dead tags." Supposedly.
Even though I totally renewed my registration online, printed out the receipt, and am waiting for the new stickers in the mail. Even though I'm fully in compliance with the Virginia DMV. Even though we pay more rent here than when we lived in Manhattan.
They towed KingHenryZebra. And so, it appears, I have to fight for my love, or pay a fine.
OH NO!! Good luck. And good luck forever in the car department. Sounds like you need it!
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