My brakes were squeaking. They tend to do that. Apparently, I am rough on my brakes. Mr. D. hasn't had to buy brake pads for almost five years because of some warranty. So when they start to squeak he just takes the old pads off and trades them for new ones. He was "fixin to" change them soon.
Apparently that was also a problem.
I was driving my squeaky wheeled self around town a few weeks ago when, after dropping the kids off at P.E.) I decided to go to my happy place, Bahama Bucks. Best. Snowcones. Ever.
Anyway, as I pulled into the turn lane I heard a loud "pop" and my brake pedal went all the way to the floor. And I was still moving. Realizing I was about to sail into traffic, I went ahead and punched the gas making it into the parking lot before the next wave of cars came by.
I nursed myself to a stop amid the painful groans of metal on metal. I still shudder at the memory of that sound, the sound of money being torn from our hands. I whipped out my handy dandy cell phone and Googled a mechanics shop. Thankfully there was a shop just around the corner about half a mile down.
So I carefully left the parking lot (goodbye Bahama Bucks) and practically crawled down the road to my destination. I pulled into the lot amidst another metal protest from my busted brakes. As I handed the keys over I could have sworn I saw dollar signs pop out of the guys eyes.
Sure enough, he comes out forty minutes later, giddy with excitement as he led me back to the shop to show me all of the things that needed to be replaced.
I'm not super educated in mechanical jargon, but I know enough to understand the difference between "need" and "greed". Even still this adventure was going to cost us an arm and a leg. Which I guess I don't mind because the van is paid off, and I only need one arm.
I was promised my van would be repaired by the evening, so after I made sure my kids had a way home, I embarked on the three mile walk back to the house. Now, let me just stop all of the gasps of protest right now. I have many friends who love my guts, and I know that anyone of them would have dropped whatever they were doing to come and get me, but I needed that walk. I needed to contemplate my life, the vastness of the universe, and the depth of my belly button. Also, my aft end is growing wider so I needed the exercise.
It was a fun walk, except for the rig that flew past and salted me with enough gravel to remove the top layer of my epidermis. That wasn't very nice.
I made it home in one piece, and my van was ready by the evening, as promised. Hopefully, we won't have to replace anything else for a while. Since we've already repaired the A.C., and replaced the battery.
Is that naïve?