Friday the 13th like a mothapucker

I swear: some days it would be best just to not get out of bed.

Backstory (settle in - it's a long one): For the past 5 1/2 years, I have been driving a wonderful Nissan 350Z convertible. Before I bought this car, I considered a Mercedes convertible, but He Who Cannot Be Named (HWCBN) said, "I can't change no oil in a Mercedes. Buy a Nissan - I can change the oil in that." I keep cars for 10 years or more and I get the oil changed religiously, so I figured I could save a lot of money by choosing a car where I had a live-in oil changer. I bought the Nissan.

When the car had 3000 miles on it, HWCBN bought an oil filter and 5 quarts of oil and looked under my car to discover that he could not change the oil because the car has a plate under the engine compartment. To get to the parts, the car needs to be on a lift.

Strike 1: I have to pay to get the oil changed every 3000 miles.

When I was looking for a car, I looked at things like color (red), the ability to remove the roof (convertible), and overall good looks. I view tires as something that enable me to drive and rims as something that hold tires. HWCBN focused on the rims - to the detriment of the overall beauty of a red convertible. He then began to complain that the brakes created too much dust and made the front rims get dirty too quickly. (He could still wash the car - even when he couldn't change the oil.) After 2 years of hearing about how bad the rims looked with the brake dust, I got chrome rims because chrome rims were supposedly easier to clean. I must admit that the chrome rims added a nice touch to the car; I like to call them my bling.

Fast forward a few years. At 70,000 miles, I needed new front brakes. HWCBN insisted that I get some after-market brakes that created less dust so that he would not have to work so hard to keep the rims clean. I stated that if that's what he wanted, he needed to go to the auto parts store to get them. He countered with a question on why I would not be independent on this and handle it myself. My answers: I don't care what kind of brakes I have as long as they stop the car, and I would not be able to get the correct brakes.

Yesterday, he called O'Reillys Auto Parts and talked to someone who said they had the brakes he thought I needed to have. This morning, I went to that store and they told me that they didn't have them but could get them in a few hours. I went back in a few hours to get them.

After work (Friday afternoon, in the rain), I drove 30 miles to where the only mechanic HWCBN trusts works and handed him the brakes. After I sat in the waiting room for 90 minutes, the mechanic said that he didn't know what the hell they sold me but it wasn't the brakes I needed. This is not what I wanted to hear. The mechanic put the old brakes back on the car and told me to come back after work on Monday. It is a 30 mile drive each way to see the mechanic - or 3 hours minimum with driving and waiting.

Now it was 7:30 and I was driving home in the rain - with the wrong brakes in a box and bad brakes on the car. I went to an O'Reillys near my house and tried to exchange the brakes. They did not have what I needed, but they said that the store on Hilcroft and Beechnut had them. I asked, "Hilcroft and Beechnut?" The first guy said, "Yes. Hilcroft and Beechnut." The second guy said, "Hilcroft and Beechnut. Do you know where that is?" I replied that I did.

I drove to Hilcroft and Beechnut. No O'Reillys. At this point, I said fuck O'Reillys.

Next stop: Pep Boys. A very helpful man there got some other brakes for me.

Did I mention how much I hate going into auto parts stores? Especially in the dark, in the rain, on Friday night?

I went back to the O'Reillys where they told me about the location at Hilcroft and Beechnut. I told them that there was no store at Hilcroft and Beechnut, and the first guy said, "Oh, it's at Hilcroft and Bissonet." When I informed them that I drove through that intersection and did not see a store, he said that I needed to turn left and then it was on the left.

Again - FUCK O'REILLYS.

I got my money back for the bad brakes.

Next stop: neighborhood store for a six pack, a bag of Tostitos, and some lottery tickets.

What did I accomplish? Absolutely nothing. I was able to spend some quality time in the car by myself. And after I got home, I made a good dent in the six pack.

And now I get to do this all over again in a few days.