can someone come be my personal mechanic for the winter, for free?

Omg, winter. My ability to handle normal life situations goes completely to hell when I am faced with any sort of real winter weather. Though less-than-10-degree days DO provide exciting opportunities to conduct science experiments with your work buddies. Did you know that a cup of hot water thrown into 8-degree air will vaporize before it hits the ground? How does that happen?? Mind. Blown.

So anyway, back to that first thing I was saying, about how winter and I don’t get along. Well, ACTUALLY, the most pressing problem is really that winter doesn’t get along with my car. Or maybe just that I’m approaching the point where I need a new car . . . or need to spend a significant amount of money fixing everything that is wrong with the old one.

One of the most recent car troubles that I’ve been choosing to ignore is the fact that the washer fluid no longer sprays onto my windshield. It’s spraying somewhere. Under the hood somewhere. But not where it’s supposed to be. This problem isn’t usually all that much of a problem, until it snows. And then the windshield becomes a magnet for every grain of salt on the road.

Last Thursday night, it snowed. Quite a bit. On Friday morning, it took me a whole bunch of tries to get my car started. But before I could even begin that fun activity, I had to actually get into the car which was putting up a pretty good fight. I was a little worried that, if I just yanked full-force on the frozen door handles, one of them might fall off (after all, I did once dent the passenger side door by slamming my butt into it). Super woman, that’s me. So I resorted to kicking at the doors to try and loosen things up a bit. I admit, this was a slightly questionable tactic, but eventually, I got one of the back doors open and sort of slithered my way into the front seat.

Whatever works, people.

I got to work, busted my way out the driver’s side door (much easier to accomplish from INSIDE the car), and proceeded with my day.

Fast forward to the afternoon when I was nominated to go pick up some drawings from the printer’s, not something I usually do. I must have looked bored, or maybe it was just because half the office had been smart enough to stay home when they got snowed in. And while I was driving back and forth to the printer’s, holding my driver’s side door closed because the latch was now either frozen open or broken, and peering through the only 2-inch portion of my windshield (near the bottom left) that was not completely covered with salt, it occurred to me that most people would probably not put up with this. That, perhaps, grownups make an effort to fix things when they break.

So when I got to the printer’s, I wiped some of the salt off the windshield and started tinkering with the door latch, trying to get it unstuck. And managed, somehow, to get it STUCK IN THE LOCKED POSITION. While the door was open. Now I was not just unable to latch the door, I couldn’t even get it all the way closed.

Amendment: grownups pay other people to fix broken things that they don’t know anything about.

By begging, pleading, and raging at the car, I eventually got the door shut and latched again (probably by kicking it). I spent the rest of the day climbing into the driver’s seat through various other doors. I was afraid to open that one up again.


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