Elle Vampa

“Well then, that’s just dandy isn’t it?”

I say the words out loud, even if nobody hears me. Maybe I had done better outing my feelings while I was still on the phone – oh well.

It was a cloudy-but-promising Sunday morning when I happily settled into Ursula – she’s my car.

With me were Jay, my still-very-much-in-love-with-even-after-a-whole-year!-boyfriend, my stayover bag filled with clothes, and a big box containing a big present.

It was the day my parents-in-law were celebrating their 40th anniversary and we were prepared!

It’s just a little sad that about 10 minutes into our journey, and 5 minutes onto the freeway, Ursula started up a Christmas-worthy lights show using her dashboard. This set off her automatic safety mode and voila! There we were, stalling as others raced past us.

Now, things could have been worse, I know that. Me and Jay safely made it to the emergency lane (and to the party eventually, only 3 hours late…).

Before I even had a chance to call anyone a service car pulled up behind us and guided us off the freeway safely (the man just so happened to drive a few cars behind us, noticed us pulling over and witnessed part of the disco show).

We spent less than the usual hour-and-a-half waiting for the tow truck (while sitting in a super café eating a super lunch).

And before we even set foot in the garage Ursula got moved to, we had a replacement car awaiting us!

A replacement car that I have to return before 5pm today. Somewhere in my southern-y vicinity of the country.

While Ursula is still stuck in middle-y vicinity of the country. At a garage that has just, casually, as matter-off-factly as possible, told me over the phone that “a spare part has been ordered but that won’t be here until after at least a week. ‘At least’ being the operative word here, ma’am.”

Hmm.

Just dandy indeed.

I feel a rage coming on so I do the only logical thing I can think of: I call my mom.

After ten minutes of me being near tears (“How am I going to get to work? How am I going to take you to the hospital? How am I going to go anywhere?? For at least a week!”) Mom offers me a solution in the form of shared usage of her car.

(Well, hers and my dad’s, but he never drives anymore – which is better for everyone, trust me.)

Ignoring my father’s protests in the background, her and I come to an agreement: we’ll work out a schedule of who needs their car when. Like a form of custody.

She’ll get it on Wednesday, so I’ll drop it off on the day before. Then she’ll drop it back off at my place so I can go to work on Thursday.

Once again, I put down my phone.

“Well, that’s just… dandy!”

Only this time, I say it with a smile.