DUCT TAPE ADVENTURES

I hate when I take something to be fixed, and it comes back broken in ways it wasn't even broken before I took the damn thing to be fixed in the first place.

You know -- like cars.

I take my car in to have a check-up, and it dies the next day after it passes with a clean bill of health.  Supposedly it's because I put "bad gas" into the tank, but now my car sounds like an airplane when I drive it.  Bad gas?  Bullfuckingshit.

And I tell the garage please fix the broken windshield wiper dispenser line on the passenger side.  The little connector nozzle at the dispensing end broke off.  Okay, sure, that gets fixed, but now the driver's side is busted, like they yanked the line and snapped off the original one.

I'm too tired and too busy and too disgusted to bring my car back to them yet a third time in so many weeks, so I decide I'll jury rig it myself. 

On my way to the hair salon for a trim, I stop at the grocery store and buy wine and duct tape because in New Hampshire you can buy wine and duct tape in the grocery store and not look like a complete and total alcoholic nutcase.  Well, except that I also buy a get well card for someone, and the cashier comments, "This is an interesting collection of stuff," as if a get well card, wine, and duct tape doesn't make sense as a combo choice.

I drive to the salon parking lot, which is right on busy route 28, and park my car nose in.  I know what I'm doing, but I must look pretty damn stupid doing it, so I'd rather not advertise that I fix my car with duct tape to the entire traffic pattern on route 28 in Salem.  I don't know why I'm self-conscious, like I'm the only one driving in NH with a vehicle held together by duct tape.  Not!

I start to open the package of duct tape and discover that the scored lines on the plastic coating are not really scored at all.  I start fighting with the packaging, even taking my keys and trying to cut the plastic.  This takes about three minutes.  Finally, after getting a few pieces loose, I am able to peel away the plastic wrapper.  Great, I'm good to ...

Wait.  What the ... Motherfuckeryoubitchassholecunt.  There's a SECOND layer of plastic wrap over the duct tape, and it's just as much of a dink as the first layer.  It takes me another three minutes plus my keys plus my teeth plus an endless string of obscenities before I wrangle the second layer of plastic off the tape.  I swear to God, if there's a third layer under here, I'm going to stab something.

Luckily, there is no third layer of wrapping.  I get out of the car, open the hood, push the tubing back into place, duct tape the crap out of it, and get back into my car.  When I push the dispenser, some fluid actually hits the windshield.  It's not perfect, but, as long as the tape holds, it'll do for now.

I'll get back to the garage at some point, but, presently, I'm just damn happy I don't have to go to the gym after the duct tape wrapping work-out.