SCREW EVERYTHING: Part 2.

The good news: got my wonky back license plate fixed!

The bad news: my tiny finger-length windshield crack is now an enormous windshield-width crack.

I started heading to the Honda dealership in Greeley to have them check out the headless screw that got stuck in the screw-in part (that's actually the most accurate way to describe it) and over the course of the 15 minute drive, I watched my windshield crack grow. And like, I was ALREADY upset about the crack, so seeing it inch across my windshield every few minutes was awful and there might've been tears and also some terrifying daydreams about the whole thing just crashing in on me as I'm cruising down Route 34 and me ending up with 1) a totaled vehicle, 2) glass shards in my eyes, and 3) a lot of people crowding around and shaking their heads.

Fortunately, none of those things happened, although the 3-foot crack is still very real and I doubt I will be able to control my imagination whenever I'm driving.

Anyway, the license plate ended up being quick and relatively painless. I say relatively because that place was WEIRD. I walked in and everything was bright white and pristine and there was absolutely no one there. After waiting silently at the welcome desk trying to figure out whether I should start wandering around and opening doors, a woman with David Bowie hair (circa 1970's) and a horrendously bright blue outfit appeared and talked to me like a five year old. And instead of being like, "HEY I'M AN ADULT," it made me all stuttery and fumbly and possibly Texas twangy. Honestly did not know how to react or converse with this woman. I finally got the point across that I needed license plate help, so she sent me to the other side of the building to "Services."

Very similar to this, actually.

Grateful to be done interacting with an alien, I pulled my car up to "Services" and waited at the desk while the guy behind it tapped impatiently and scribbled on paperwork. Finally, he gestured at me and I stepped forward and let out a bunch of word vomit about screw drivers and breaking things and expired Vermont plates. He didn't once make eye contact with me, which was WEIRDWEIRDWEEEIRD. But he worked his magic, got the stuck screw out, attached my license plate, and even put the heat on so the car would be warm for me-- ALL FO FREE. I smiled at the guy, but he was too busy not making eye contact to see it, so I just rolled outta there lickety split.

And that's the story.

SCREW EVERYTHING

I always seem to break down in this one coffee shop. The same ginger-haired, newsboy cap-wearing, beatnik guy with John Lennon glasses is always working and I swear he's seen me cry more than several times. Once when I was too homesick to function, once when my bike got stolen, once when I had an impossibly hard book editing assignment, and today when the stupidest car problems have me running all over town. I have not interacted with him more than giving him my coffee order, and yet he has been witness to more of my bad days than most people. Sorry, dude. I'll try to keep the tears to a minimum over here.

The car problems started on September 23rd. That was the day I got my Colorado plates and also the day I forgot about my Colorado plates. Whoops. They've been in my glovebox since then and every once in a while I'd remember and be like, "Oh man, I should really change those." But did it ever happen? No. One thing I've found since starting grad school is that all that matters to me is surviving school and staying sane. That means that adult things like cars and bills and residency requirements get put to the wayside and if something goes wrong it's a TRAGEDY because I don't allot time or energy for things so low on my priority list.

This past Thursday, I parked in a lot that apparently had a time limit (Y'ALL NEED BETTER SIGNS AROUND HERE) and got a $20 parking ticket AND a $50 fine for having expired plates. Whoooooooooooooooooops. So I paid my fine, it sucked, whatever. But then when I went to change my plates this morning, one of the screw heads chipped off and left the screw-in part of the screw inside the screw hole (I don't even know how to describe that better. Figure it out). So I got my front plate on a-okay and I got my back VT plate OFF, but I can't get the new one on because there's part of a screw in the screw hole. Ya get me?

I took my car to a repair shop and the guy looked at it and was like, "Wow, that sucks. Can't help ya." And I couldn't think of anything to do except come to this coffee shop to cry and possibly get another ticket since my car doesn't have a back plate.

I'm gonna call the Honda dealership today and see what they have to say for themselves. Maybe I'll get a new car!!!!!!!!! More realistically, maybe they'll figure out my screw situation. I don't know. They're my last hope before I start slamming my head into walls.

ALSO. A crack showed up on my windshield out of nowhere. Didn't hit anything, nothing dramatic happened, it just showed up. Called for cost repairs and it turns out I need to get the whole damn thing replaced. This is an expensive car weekend, lemme tell ya.

MORAL OF THE STORY: SUCK IT UP AND CHANGE YA DAMN PLATES BEFORE THE PLASTIC GETS ALL WONKY AND THE SCREW GETS STUCK IN THE SCREW HOLE, LEAVING YOU SCREWED.