You got a fast car; I want a ticket to anywhere…

Cars and vacations. My life — and my savings account — all seem to revolve around these two items. This month has been a doozy for O.C. (the car). And I cannot wait until May 1 when I am on a plane across the country. To warmth. And without having to look at my back bumper.

If you are following me on Twitter (oh, you’re not? The shame cast on you, as I have not truly disappeared!), you know that my car was broken into downtown a couple of weeks ago. While more pain-in-the-ass than anything, I still find humor in the situation. One, it was raining — of course, so goes my luck. Two, I parked in that specific lot to refrain from another night of parking costs (shame on me). Three, the camera that my ex-boyfriend broke in Brussels last year was packed up in the backseat, ready to be sent back to Nikon for repair. Yes, it was in my car for a year. That’s how much I hate the post office. Oh, well he stole that too. Sucks to be that thief. But seriously, I really need to clean my car.

Anyway, iPJHiser was taken, as was this year’s Christmas Gift, my Garmin GPS (that couldn’t even find 3 of the last 4 addresses) and a removable ashtray of change. For whatever reason about a month ago I took all my CD cases out, so at least I still have those. Oddly, s/he didn’t steal my FM transmitter out of the lighter socket for my iPhone. That was the first thing I noticed. But having a broken window to tend to first thing in the morning is not a highlight… it was fixed a couple days later. In my own parking lot. While it was raining. Again.

But really, the question remains, Mel, what in the world was your car doing overnight in Cleveland, while you have a perfectly nice garage space in Rocky River. More on that later…

Fast forward to last weekend, and add in a craving for smoothies at Roebeck’s. My experience with the carrot/ginger drink spot was awesome. And as much as I want to spin “backing up into somebody” as perversely sexual as possible, this was not a fun notch in my sunny Saturday. There was no he-said/she-said or unnecessary apologies in the parking lot, just I got my shit, you got yours. Of all the parking spots, in all the lot, you pick the one behind me, and we leave at the exact same time. Tragic. And apparently, my luck. So I got that going for me — a nice dent into my back bumper to tend to while my brakes are replaced (and something with the suspension and another thing that should prove to wear out my four new tires)…

But not until I get home from Vegas. But I have nine days left to entertain you…

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