My unique car luck

I’m jinxed. When a car quits working, I’m always the one stranded, not my husband. Like the time I drove 50 miles home in a car with hiccups so sever it needed frequent stops to settle its stomach.
Or the time I had to replenish the oil every 5-10 miles as I rushed it to the car doctor.
Because the mechanic said we could probably “got a long time with that little problem,” I used that vehicle to take my son to his first year of college.
We never made it.
My daughter and her friend were with me when the car ground to a halt that required an engine transplant.
One night as I cross the 25 miles of “no exits” bridge over the swamp outside New Orleans, the engine began thunking. I decided I could drive on to my son’s apartment anyway.
My husband came to help. On the way home, I was driving that same bridge when the thermometer buzzed, “too hot.” Adding water did no good.
Engine steaming, we stopped between two seafood restaurants. As soon as we popped the hood, boys in long white aprons swarmed out to give advice and loan tools. With my husband driving, we got home.
I was just taking a quick trip south one morning, when the car violently rejected the Surgeon General’s advice about smoking. I abandoned that car and my plans for the day.
Because of my “car luck” when we decided to visit the relatives for the holidays, we fixed every part that we knew needed attention.
The vehicle didn’t care. Hours before departure time it snapped its accelerator cable laving us powerless. We fixed it and figured we were safe.
Not.
I was putting the pedal to the metal down the Interstate when a funny sound sent me heading for the shoulder. My husband said, “dive on, but go slower.”
The car wouldn’t move.
My husband tried and declared, “The transmission’s frozen in fourth gear.”
After we were towed in, the mechanics assured us there was no way they could get parts and fix the car before Christmas.
We went to the car rental business and relaxed in luxury, confident that nothing can go wrong with a car that is practically brand new, guaranteed, still under warranty and insured.
Unless I am in it.
My sons and I decided to go to a Christmas Eve service. After driving 10 minutes down the dark, snowy road, the car refused to go with us. The mechanic wished us a happy holiday, but did not look at it until after the weekend. It took him about an hour to wire around the electrical problem.
But something was different. The gentleman at the rental place begged to pay all our expenses.
Maybe my jinx is wearing out. I was planning the yearly car inspection when I realized the horn would not work. The mechanic said it was probably a simple inexpensive fuse.
I laughed, after all, I was the one driving the car.
An hour of labor later, wit a new relay switch installed, I had another surprise – I didn’t have to pay. The part was under warranty.
Maybe my luck is changing. Could I borrow your car and find out?


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