Mandatory Staycation

If I Had A Horse, Vampire Bats Would Eat It.

I must have been an absolute prick in a former life.

I can't think of another reason that karma keeps shoving misfortune up my poop chute.

I go to work when I'm supposed to, and don't call in sick unless I'm actually sick. I pay my taxes, don't skip out on jury duty, and donate to charities. I change my oil regularly, take multivitamins, don't drink to excess and even write thank-you letters upon occasion.

So, why can't I just, for once, drive a vehicle that's not a complete piece of shit?

They all start out OK. The Dodge Ram, the Caddy, the VW. All wonderful cars, for the first few months. Then, the gremlins arrive and commence to wreaking havoc.

The latest round of repairs to the F150 had my regular mechanic throwing in the towel. Apparently Ford, in its infinite wisdom, went to an ignition coil mounted on each plug, instead of a single coil and a distributor. Three of the coils seem to be wonky, and according to the mechanic, they're impossible to remove without dismantling the engine.

I was really trying to avoid going to the Ford dealership with this... It's cheaper to hire a top-rung prostitute by the hour than to pay their labor charges. At least with the prostitute, I'd enjoy getting screwed...

So, chained to Houston once more, until I save the shekels to pay Ford's freight.

Have fun at the Blownstar Blogfest, those of you smart enough to acquire reliable transportation. I'll still be sitting here, puttering around town on a random number of firing cylinders, going no faster than 35 mph for the foreseeable future.