Monday, May 23, 2011

Constable Douche serves and protects.

Remember the story of my rearview mirror falling off? I remember writing that post and thinking about other fun memories of me terrorizing my car that I could tell you guys. Like when I drove into a house. Or when my tires exploded on the highway. But instead, this one came to mind, and became very relevant after yesterday:

It was about three years ago, and I had just finished a long closing shift at Starbucks. I get into my car, not being able to wait to crawl into bed, only to have to get up 43 minutes later to come back to work (and I wonder why I have bags under my eyes 24/7...). I start my car, put it into reverse, turn the wheel as I back out of my stall, and *CRACK*, my windshield now has a nice spiderweb, veiny crack in it. I may or may not have forgotten to take my club off my steering wheel. Oops. I didn't even care. All I wanted was bedrightthisverysecond.

As the past three years have passed the crack has only gotten longer, wider, taller, bigger. It sometimes is in my line of vision, but not enough for me to worry about me being a hazard to anyone on the road because I can't see anything. Except the one time the sun hit the crack at the exact spot where I was momentarily blinded and couldn't see anything in front of me (or, for that matter, anywhere in my vicinity because all I saw was spots for a good 10 minutes after). It's the same as driving when my windows are still frosty in the winter because I need to be at work in the next 36 seconds and I know my route well enough that I don't need to be able to see anything while driving. Watch out fellow drivers.

In the past three years I've been told more times than I care to remember to "just pay the deductible" and get the glass fixed. Last time I checked I didn't have a spare $200 laying around to get my windshield fixed. And if I did, please let me tell you it wouldn't be spent on my windshield. I could list tens of thousands of things that I would rather spend $200 on. At the top of my list? Makeup, DVD's, pepperoni caesars, BACON (which I used the last of in the house yesterday making bacon chocolate chip cookies, so I do actually need more). But not a new windshield.

Up until douchey, regular-customer cop pulls me over yesterday. I should have known that Mexican and my witch powers would come into play when we had JUST been talking about how if we got pulled over by a different regular-customer cop that he would let us get away with anything. WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN HIM THAT PULLED ME OVER? I sometimes hate subconsciously predicting the future.

I'm just driving alongside a cop car, minding my own business, blasting 'Island in the Sun' by Weezer, talking to Mexican about the sushi we're going to eat, when all of a sudden I get the feeling this cop car is out to get me. I wasn't speeding, I didn't have drugs on me, I was wearing my seatbelt, I was abiding by all laws, but I just knew he was thinking of something to pull me over for. So I turn down the next street to lose him. Home free. Or not. I habitually look behind me and HE'S BACK! I'm still not speeding, I still have no drugs on me, I'm still wearing my seatbelt, but he turns his lights on anyway. I obviously burst out laughing, because of course this is happening. My laughter quickly turns to anger as I see what cop steps out of the vehicle. Well lookie here, look who it is...

Fast forward what felt like three hours, being pulled over on the main street in Abbotsford, where I'm sure 27 people that I knew drove past Mexican and I, who probably automatically thought we were criminals (or thought I was speeding because I might do that every once in awhile), and Constable Douche comes back to my window giving me a Notice and Order to have my windshield and burnt out taillight fixed in SEVEN DAYS. Let's keep in mind that this is a Sunday, and tomorrow's a holiday, so I have FIVE DAYS to fork out a $200 deductible AND prove that it's fixed to the police station. Five days and no time. I suppose I could try and find the silver lining of this situation and look at this fix as increasing the "value" of my car for when I have to sell it and get a new one, but right now it's just a giant inconvenience. Why couldn't he have given me 14 days? That would at least give me another pay period where I could pay for it comfortably.

Let me add that knowing my luck, as soon as I get my windshield fixed a giant rock will hit the nice, shiny, brand spankin' new glass and chip OR crack it all over again, and we'll be back to square one. If I have that expectation I won't be disappointed, right?

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