2011 Wasn't The Best Year For FORD

Our 2011 "Patriot Blue" (I named the color that because 'Merica) Ford Escape is currently on its 3rd transmission service in six months. We picked the car up from the dealership on Saturday after having the transmission completely rebuilt. The cost to the warranty company was about $2,000. At first, we didn't know the warranty company was going to pay for it and the tech gave me the invoice and I almost crapped my pants on the waiting room floor. We were happy to have the car back, though, and happier to not have paid for it.

On Monday, the engine and transmission lights both came on while my husband was driving to a meeting three hours away. That transmission rebuild had lasted about 30 miles. I have an uncle that once wanted to get rid of his car so he set it on fire and rolled it down a hill and into a reservoir. I used to think that was crazy. Used to.

I dropped off the car again and I picked up our latest rental car today and there is a faint vagina-like odor inside. Clearly, the rental car company has tried to mask that odor with a sticky-sweet floral air freshener and so I feel like I'm driving a maxi-pad. The factory warranty on our car expired because we're over the mileage, but luckily, my husband bought the extended warranty when he first got the car brand new. I've been handling most aspects of this issue for two reasons: 1) my schedule is more flexible and each trip to the dealership is a three to four hour ordeal and 2) my husband freaks out on people when they give him bad news. He once threw a cable guy out of our apartment because he couldn't rewire the building to hook up our television. I wasn't home for the appointment and was so disappointed at the news because I was looking forward to getting my fix of cheesy sci-fi made for television garbage that inevitably stars Lou Diamond Phillips in some role. If there was a show about an F.B.I. agent that was actually a werewolf and that werewolf F.B.I. agent was always chasing serial killers that were mummys and frankensteins, I'd totally freaking watch that. Anyway, I handle stuff like this, but let me know if anybody makes that show.

The car is only two years old, but it does have about 80,000 miles on it. Still, I'm not sure a transmission should turn to sludge at 80,000 miles. We're now asking for a new transmission, instead of more repair work. They very well might say yes, which would be great, because then it would be easier to sell. As a bonus to whomever might buy the car, it comes with a two year build-up of fast food containers wedged under seats, stuffed into door side pockets or just plain stuck to floormats because the mystery sauce that dripped out of the container acted like a bonding agent after three months and will now take a chisel to remove. It's quite the collection. While most people might keep chips and crackers in their cabinets to snack on, I keep a steady supply of chicken legs in our fridge for my husband to gnaw on because his stomach is a bottomless pit. Every once in a great while, he tells me he's full and I get really worried that he has some terrible undiagnosed stomach disease and is going to die in his sleep (daymare). When he's home, I can turn to the kitchen at any given time and this is what I see:

Clearly, Truffles will be getting nothing. Aren't they cute, though?