Death to the Wagen & helpful hookers

Ahh....a day in my dear husband's life is like no other. If there wasn't a bit of humor in this, I don't know how much either of us would be laughing. At the least, it makes a great story to tell.

This morning, a mere two days after Dave decided flipping burgers at McDonald's is not better than selling timeshare, the clutch went out on Dave's car. It's an old car & it doesn't go very fast, so he has to take the back roads to work (which usually adds about double the time on to his commute).

Amidst the angry, hurried morning commuters, Dave had to push his car backwards for about a block, all the while he has people yelling & honking at him. It's not the best part of town & this particular corner he was stranded at is known for its wealth of women of the night. Lo & behold, there are a few still working in the early morning hours, & they offer to help him push it to the nearest parking lot.

My first though upon hearing this is "Oh, that was so nice of them! Hookers with heart" also something along the lines about how that had a nice ring to it, but I digress...

Once they finally get it to the parking lot, they then ask for payment for their services.

Okay, so my initial conclusions about these women were a bit hasty, it appears. My jaw hit the floor upon hearing this & I struck me as a bit amusing. Only I hadn't heard the best parts yet.

I'm sure there was a few expletives involved, so I won't bother trying to quote what happened next. Apparently, once it was determined that Dave had no money, they proceed to tell him he'd better pay them or they'll call their pimp to come over. Dave, already irritated over the morning's events, let them know, in no uncertain terms, that they should call their pimp. He really wanted that at the moment.

As it happens, the parking lot they pushed the car in to was that of a motel. He went inside & called me so I could arrange a tow & call the shop & his work, then come get him. Once I made all the necessary arrangements, I took Jo to school & headed over to get him.

While on my way, I get a call from the tow company saying they're there but they can't find him anywhere. I know he said he'd wait in the lobby, so I'm not sure what the problem is. I describe what he was wearing (good thing I paid attention today!) & gave them his name & told the guy I'd be there in 10 minutes so he wouldn't leave.

The driver went back inside the lobby to look for Dave again. Now that he had a pretty accurate description, he was probably pretty confidant he wouldn't need to wait the 10 minutes for me to show up. After checking out the free breakfast buffet (I'm not saying he ate anything), he returned to his seat in the lobby & the driver, a very tall, very large, very intimidating (at least to me) American Indian man, came up to him wanting to know if he's the guy that owns the black VW out front.

Dave doesn't think "tow truck driver" when he see's this man, dressed in his Dickies. He thinks "pimp".

It's at this point during his rendition of the story I can't keep the laughter in.

After a few scary moments where it looks like this custom, low-to-the-ground "baby" of Dave's might break in half, or at least have its rear bumper removed while being lifted up on to the bed of the truck, it's finally at the shop, awaiting its turn to be fixed.

Dave swears he's done with the car. I can't say I'm sad. So, if any one's looking to buy a custom, dark purple in the sunlight, but otherwise black, custom upholstered, really slick but not so fast, 1964 VW Beetle, with a brand new clutch, it will be found on Craigslist shortly.