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Leaving the niece’s new/used car with our mechanic to be worked on, we went to lunch at our local pub. I was two Cosmopolitans in and tackling dessert…

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( A scrumptious apple cinnamon crunch cake a la mode with accompanying hard cider)

… when the niece told us she actually hadn’t registered her car yet because when she went to the DMV the day before? She forgot the paperwork. Mind you she’s telling us this on a Friday afternoon, the day her temporary plates run out.

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Teenagers. You can’t kill ’em, but Lord knows it takes a lot of restraint.

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And what made it even worse? Her legal address is the Island where I spent my teenage years. She had to register it there. Did I mention the only way to get to the Island is by boat?

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We flew down I 95, put her on the 2:25 ferry with strict instructions she do nothing but register the damn car and come back on the 3:45. This left me and the husband with over an hour to kill.

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Yeah, you knew that’s where this was going.

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Two lovely Harvest Sangrias later…

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At one of our favorite watering holes.

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There was creamy clam chowder…

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And mussels with white wine and garlic drenched tomatoes.

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If we’d stayed longer I might have been tempted to play with their cider combinations.

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But it was 3:30 and I’d already had 5 toddies that day.

*Hic*

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Was that fish fleshed out when we went in…?

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Anyway, long story long… the teenager was finally legal with her very first license plates.

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Her car had been successfully tinkered with, her oil was changed and the next morning we gave her a AAA gift membership and 4 brand new tires.

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At which point I said, we’re done… and welcome to the wonderful world of car ownership. Tons of fun, but lots of responsibility as well.

❤️

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In my dreams, I’m a proof reader. It’s the perfect job because someone would pay me to read all day and find mistakes. Like this one I just found in a John Grisham novel.

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Did he really loved the office? I don’t think so.

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That’s a good question. Nothing worse than a greedy hog.

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Anyone want to purchase our 4 year old water pump? My husband thinks the buyers be lining up and made me list it on 6 various sites. No offers yet… and I can’t say I’m shocked.

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Bourbon toothpicks? Yes please!

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Maine brewers come up with some interesting names for their beers.

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And if you think that’s bad?

Here’s my husband wearing the t shirt at the Sebago Lake Brewfest a few years ago.

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Otherwise known as – the teenage car saga continues.

So if you’ve been following the drama, we spent the last 2 months searching for and finally buying a decent first used car for our 19 year old niece. She was given 14 day plates and I repeatedly told her not to wait until the last minute to insure and register her new toy. She assured me she had it under control… which should have set my alarm bells ringing.

It’s a decent 2012 Subaru, but a few things needed to be tinkered with so we made an appointment with our friend/trusted mechanic for last Friday morning. Niece was supposed to be at our house at 9:30am.

At 8:31am she calls, in tears.

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I could hardly understand what she said in between sobs and was terrified she had an accident. Nope, she was fine. Had she hit a cat, a dog, a wombat…? Nope, no roadkill. More waterworks poured, so I gave the phone to husband. All he could get out of her was the car wouldn’t run, so we drove an hour south to find her parked behind a bank looking pitiful.

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She told us she left her college, stopped at a light and when she tried to accelerate nothing happened. If that’s the case I don’t know how she got to the bank down the road… but whatever, she’s 19. 💩 happens.

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Husband got in the car, started it up, no problem. He put it in gear… no problem. He popped the hood and checked the engine, no problem. He drove it an hour north…. flying down I95 at 90mph, no problem.

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Our mechanic couldn’t find anything wrong either, though he did mention something about a sticky butterfly.

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After he said it was nothing to worry about, and told her what to do if it happened again, I tuned out because I caught sight of this:

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His 1960 Corvette convertible getting a little touch up.

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Ooh la la! I love this car.

He bought it for $1,000 in 1970 and she only has 44,000 original miles.

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That’s my definition of sweet!

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To be continued.

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