Damn..I'm Handy! And Hooray for Good Samaritans!

Okay.

So apparently, my Malibu Barbie Car likes to eat turn signal bulbs.

This, buddies, is NOT cool. (Plus--my remote start has stopped working. I think it's just a fuse--so keep your fingers crossed. I just give thanks that the heated seats still keep my bum nice and toasty warm every morning.) It's like a freaking jig saw puzzle to get these things out--but I have developed a technique that is not only functional, but speedy, too.

But...there are these two giant bolts that hold the stupid head lamps on that can slow me down.

Which is where I had problems last night.

I left work and headed toward the gas station (I worked late, so it was too dark to do it in the parking lot as planned after work) to fill up and pop the new lights in.

Driver's side? Piece of cake. In about 2 minutes flat, I had a new, working (!), turn signal. Yeah for not getting killed on the interstate!!

Passenger side? Bolt one? Easy breezy. Bolt two?

Bolt two.

ARGH. Bolt TWO! You SUCK!

It wouldn't budge. Not at all.

Now, what is is so frustrating about this experience is the fact that two truckers, one farm kid, and various other fellows who reside in Johnson County that one might think would be inclined to help a lady by getting their hands dirty didn't say a word. Nope. They just stared.

At me.

Like I was a monkey at the zoo. And believe you me--I was getting peeved enough to throw poo. Once I got the stupid thing off, I knew it would only take me a few seconds to get the new bulb in and the stupid thing reattached to the car. But for over fifteen minutes I worked on getting that bolt off.

Fifteen. Very. Long. Minutes.

When I was about to start swearing at the air and the chubby guy sitting in the Blazer next to me staring at me while he ate his bag of chips and sucked down his Polar Pop (I guess I was the show to go along with his dinner), a very nice older man in a suit that cost more than I make in a month got out of his Volvo and asked me if I needed help. I said yes--please!!--and he proceeded to work on that bolt for over ten minutes. He was determined to get it off for me, and when he was finished, he thanked me. His wife doesn't let him tinker with the cars anymore--she feels they can pay people to do that for them.


So to the nice man in the cashmere blazer driving that beautiful Volvo S80--thank you again for helping a short girl out.

And I'll let you work on my Chevy any time. For serious.

Damn..I knew I should have gotten his name!!