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My Zany Life

September 12, 2013

Remember when Mel Gibson yelled “FREEDOM!” in Braveheart? Well, that’s what I said one Thursday morning after my court hearing. Huh? What did I do? Shoot fire, nothing serious. Wait…did I just type ‘shoot fire’ in the same paragraph with court hearing? Dickens, I’d better explain. 

It was a Wednesday morning when I walked into my attorney’s office. The look on his face said everything. Apparently, after conferring with another attorney he was no longer confident about my case. Well, he didn’t know my aptitude test in high school said I should be an attorney, or about the intel I’d been gathering for two months. Whipping out my manila ‘getting divorced if it kills me’ folder I proceeded to flip through the contents. Needless to say, my attorney was impressed and decided to speak with the judge before court. 

As I left his office, certain I’d be hollering “Freedom” by ten am Thursday, I got in my car and turned the key. ..nothing. Sure it was a fluke, I tried again. Ditto on the nothingness! Perplexed, I couldn’t even venture a guess as to the cause. It was apparent, however, my car had died suddenly. No lights, no horn, and no heartbeat. As I held my compact in front of the grill there was no discernible breath, either. Wowzer, deader than a doornail I believe is the official term.

Temporarily stranded, I dialed AAA’s 800 number as I silently thanked Dad for marching me, at 16, into their office after locking myself out of my car for the third time in as many months. Operating under the assumption it was the battery, they sent a battery guy. It wasn’t the battery and believe it or not, I had to call again to get towed and was told a truck would be in route shortly.

In the meantime, I called several friends to ask what mechanic they used in Hickory. “Take it to Ben.” “Great, what’s the name of his garage?” “I don’t know…” Do you know how many of my friends have no idea the name of the garage they use…all of them! Geez, I was getting nowhere. 

Anyway, two guys came in a tow truck and I explained I would need a ride. One of them cleared paperwork, soda bottles and mechanic’s gloves off the middle of the seat so I could climb in between them. You probably wouldn’t be surprised to know I never meet a stranger. I’ll talk to anyone. So there I am, between two burly mechanics, chattering away. Endeavoring to sound knowledgeable about calling friends to determine first, what could be the cause of the demise and second, where to take my car. Slightly flustered, I told them I didn’t receive satisfactory responses on either subject.

Well dickens, they were kind enough to suggest a place AAA approved; and how ironic that it’s located where I bought my Cruiser twelve years ago when it was Hickory Auto Mall. I was sure this was a good sign. Or, the circle of life and my car was going home to die…but I was keeping my focus on a ‘good’ sign. 

Everyone there was very friendly as I explained that I hated to put pressure on them, but I was due in court at nine the next morning. “Yikes!” I desperately needed my car. They did their best, but as the hour grew late I finally had to phone a friend to take me home. The next morning Dave, the mechanic, called to say they weren’t done, but they were close. I reminded him they were charging me by the hour as I mentally ran through what I could hock to free my car. He assured me they’d be good to me. (And they certainly were.) But as I hung up, I realized I was due in court in an hour.

Friends, it was at this point I understood that my life is this exciting so I have something to write about. 

Anyway, the divorce was finalized, but after five years of separation it was time. A friend asked me recently what it felt like to be divorced. And I said without hesitation, “freedom” (only I didn’t holler). Then I thought for a minute and realized I was also relieved, and finally had options afforded to me that weren’t previously. Not that I’m in favor of the ever increasing divorce rate, but it was right for me.

Huh? How did I get to court? Well dickens, I borrowed my ex’s car to get divorced from my ex. Yep, only my zany life…. 

Can you imagine…actually knowing the name of the business where your mechanic works? Smile, life is zany fun! 

CanYouImagine@charter.net | www.Bobbi-G.com |www.Facebook.com/BobbiGSpeaks

 

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