Never trust that the car is all in order when your mom and her boyfriend are both fucking retards. The kind of retards you want to hit with a stick.
So, I had to drive to NYC yesterday - my grandpa died and my mom is the only one who can sign him out of the hospital. No sympathy, please. He was old. Dude had like 9 lives. She can’t drive long distances, her back is shot. That’s why I drove.
Anyway, my mom’s boyfriend took the car to fill up the tank, check the tires, whatever the fuck he did, etc. etc. I get to my mom’s, just jump in the car (2002 Mercury Sable) adjust the mirrors and start driving.
ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY EIGHT MILES LATER, we hit some bumps and I realize that the fucking hood is still open. It’s bouncing up and down, and if it wasn’t for that hood latch, I don’t even want to know what would happen. My mom starts blaming me, saying that maybe when I opened the trunk, I hit the wrong button. Bitch, you opened the trunk, not me. All my belongings are in the back seat. Makes sense as to why so many people were just staring at the car like we were morons. WE ARE. Ugh.
So, I don’t know if any of you are familiar with Rt.17, but we took that down here, instead of the thruway. The roads can be curvy at times and I enjoy driving fast. I’m taking the bends at a decent speed, because they’re not that bad. Say around… 70? It’s 65 anyways, so shhh. Anyways, I’m taking this one bend, and my mom decides to inform me that the “suspension is fucked up.” I ask her what’s wrong, and she of course has no idea. Words that came out of her mouth were scrambled and all I got out of it was some sort of rod?
Right now I just asked her and she said “Not struts, not tie rods, it was another name. I know it needs lower ball joints.” I say “Sway bars?” She says “THAT’S IT!”
In conclusion, I’m glad I’m alive.