"It's ALWAYS somethin'!!"

Famous last words of my father. And my uncle. They must be related.

I won't put my youngest brother's last words in here, but that applies, too. Those of you who are friends with me on Facebook, you can check out Bro's proverb in my favorite quotes. It involves a thunderstorm, lots of wind, and our grill. My Dad's brand spankin' new grill. Which got knocked over. The ONLY grill in the ENTIRE neighborhood to fall, might I add. After the storm passed, my brothers and I went out to assess the situation and check out the damage to which my youngest brother cries, "Why does it always have to rain (insert a certain word that can also apply to animal waste here) on OUR family?!?" OK, so I guess now I just told you. But I had to. It was hilarious. And now, every time something goes wrong, I think of that particular phrase.

And by "something goes wrong" I mean, when my car wakes up one afternoon after an hour of rest and decides to be bipolar. So, I went the weekend without Rega. That's what I call her. She's missing the 'l' at the end of her name. I blame my father and his shammy. I digress. Lucky for me, a certain college freshman is away at Dordt and his car is here. Therefore, I was not completely dependent on my Huffy or my two feet.

Come Sunday evening, my favoritest uncle, cousin, and me, ventured over to the LC parking lot where Rega had been put to rest all weekend. Thanks to a flashlight, a man's brain, a lifesaver, and a rubber band, we were soon back in business. Kidding. Cousin got in the car, got it started and headed for the mechanic. Uncle and I followed. In the four short blocks that Cousin drove Rega, he discovered two things:

A: Emily is full of bologna. Rega runs just fine.
B. Lord have mercy, this car needs to be detailed desperately.

About the time that Cousin was ready to call me crazy, he came to a stop sign where he needed to turn right. The turn signal went on. And the car shut down. Just like that.

Hmmmm.....interesting. Coincidence? I'm sure.

NOT.

Every time the right blinker went on, even when in park, Rega choked. She died about 15 deaths that evening. But they say Rega's have 19 lives, so we're OK.

Next, thanks to a flashlight, a man's brain, and an iPhone 4, we had a diagnosis. A diagnosis AND a specialist who just happens to go by the name of Cousin, to fix the problem.

So, Rega is currently parked at Auntie and Uncle's house where she patiently awaits her new ignition switch. Because apparently THAT will fix my car from shutting down when I turn the right blinker on. It makes sense to Cousin and iPhone 4, so who am I to argue.

And now, because it makes me laugh until I cry, I'm going to share with you my favorite picture from Saturday's adventure at Stoney Ridge Farm.

God bless America. Look at my little Curly Q on the left. What.....a crack up.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to pricing new Honda Accords.

Ghetto Barbie out...