The Curse of the Bravada

For all those of you out there just about to call asking to buy our Bravada, tough noogies! We sold it yesterday to a couple who bought it for their son in college. Whoo hoo! It was a comedy of errors, however to get to this point. It started about a week ago when I placed the ad both online and in the local paper (free I might add, a great deal). Since then, I had been driving the wretched, yes I can call it that now that it's gone, thing around and placing the garish neon orange "For Sale" sign in the windshield whenever I stopped anywhere. Embarrassing.

On Friday we went out to dinner, and I was going to drive it to a parking lot for a few hours while we were gone so people could see it. Wrong. I get in and the #%&!@ thing wont start! Dead battery...probably a combo of cold weather and just time for it to die. Great, the money pit car is still sucking the life out of us. So Saturday, Bill goes back to work and I get Reina dressed and fed and in her car seat. Bill had coached me on how to jump start the Bravada with my Jetta. He couldn't help me because he has to work nearly every day this week (some days actually making money, so that's fine by me!). Anyway, I get outside, get the jumper cables out and get in the Jetta. Dead battery. !$%&#*!!!!!!!! Here comes our dear friend and neighbor Scott to the rescue, riding in on a golden steed, the beloved "Envy" their leased LandRover that got turned in that day after one final good deed. He jumped both cars and I'm eternally appreciative. Great, ok, Reina still in car seat, check. Car actually runs, check. So we went to Walmart for a new battery in the Bravada. After spending 2 hours wandering around the Walmart like that girl in the movie who lives in the store and delivers her baby there, the car is finally ready and we go home. Phew!

Page 2. Ok, that was Saturday. On Sunday we arranged for the couple who bought the blasted thing to meet us at Loews to take a look at it. The meeting was at 10am and Bill went without us (Reina needed a nap). Bill is home by 10:24. Uh oh. Evidently they didn't care for the fact the gas gage doesn't work and you can't tell when you're low on fuel. Picky picky. Bill seemed a little dejected but we try to pick each other up saying this was only the first weekend the ad had been out and besides, we had already had 1 other call regarding the car. Just as we were about to leave the house for lunch they call back and I hear Bill start to negotiate with the guy on the phone. They agreed to buy it and will pay just a little under our asking price...way better than we thought we'd do! They agree to give us a check of earnest money because we couldn't complete the sale, banks are closed on Sundays and we needed a notary to sign over the title. We meet them within 30 minutes, in the mean time we had driven to 3 separate "quickie lube" places looking for a pneumatic wrench to take off the rusted out State of Texas trailer hitch cover.

If you're still reading this, no, I'm not done yet...After meeting them to pick up the check, the husband says "hey, don't some Krogers' have banks open in them on Sundays?" So we caravan to Kroger's only to find out that the bank was open, the couple was able to get us a cashier's check, but there was no notary available to sign over the title...but there was another Kroger nearby that DID have one. Great. But we didn't have the title with us, it was at home. So by now, with check in hand, we go way back with these nice and patient people so we lead them home so we can get the title, change the license plates and get another car for us to drive home in. I load Reina up in the new Honda Pilot, which I hadn't yet driven, while Bill arranges to drive the Bravada leading the caravan to this other Kroger's. No sooner than I put the key in the ignition then all hell breaks loose inside this very fancy new car. I'm talking radio blaring, windshield wipers at full speed chaos. This car has buttons and levers and a computer that talks all of which were in places that were not intuitive to me and it took me a few minutes to turn everything off before I could even think about driving. Finally, I'm on the road and we get to our destination. Bill and the couple go inside and not 2 minutes later he's back outside running toward my car. I roll down the window and he asks, "do you have the title?!". I say, "no doofus, you've got it, that's what we went home to pick up!". Needless to say, he didn't have it. The kind and patient people continue to wait while Bill speeds home to get it. He returns, they sign it over, couple drives the miserable hosebeast Bravada away smiling. End of story, right? Wrong. This post is called "the curse of the Bravada" for a reason.

To celebrate, we pulled out all the stops and had Red Robin for lunch. Reina, incidentally, has slept through this entire ordeal, bless her heart. Driving home, we decide to deposit the check and drive by our ATM. Temporarily out of order. Phooey. Oh well, we can do it on Monday. We go home, Bill goes to work and Reina and I fall asleep watching the Oscars, it's not like we've seen or heard of any of the nominated films anyway. This morning, Bill has an early meeting so I am semi-conscious when he leaves, I hear the Honda warming up in the garage when he comes back upstairs and asks "where's the check?" WHAT!?! I'm awake now! After all that crap and hassle we LOST the check and essentially just gave away that miserable excuse for a car? Son of a biscuit! Just as I am about the start tearing through trash bags full of kitty litter and dirty diapers I talk to Bill who's now driving to his meeting...he says he found it. In a stack of papers. Not, as I was wondering but thought better than to ask out loud, in his posterior or in a hole in the ground. I know we've both been a little more distracted theses days with Reina around, but sheesh.

So, all's well that ends well, right? Shakespeare couldn't have thought of more hilarious hijinks's, right? Well, I think so. Bill was going to deposit it on the way home from the meeting, so unless there are little check stealing gremlins going to the meeting too, we should be ok. I am waiting for the other shoe to drop, however. I can't help but feel a little anxious and guilty about selling that ticking time bomb of a car. After all, the last car I sold burst into flames and burned to the ground less than 2 weeks after I sold it. I guess the Bravada was meant to die at the hands of a 20 year old boy who would run it into the ground, not on the side of the road while a young woman and her 3 month old baby shivering in the cold waiting for AAA to tow them to the car graveyard.

Now, dear devoted reader, you have reached the end of "The Curse of the Bravada," thank you for sticking with it. Next week, the story of "The Telltale Diaper Pail". No, only kidding. I hope there's nothing in there at least....gross!