More than a year in the life of my car, part deux

So friends, here is the verdict: My nearly 19-year-old car is running again thanks to the tow-man and my best friend/roommate, who somehow teamed up to push it out of its parallel-parking spot. The one pop-up light that was stuck down has now been permanently screwed into the upright position. The other one's fuse was fixed. So we're left with the same result — a car that looks like it's winking.

But, it doesn't have a functioning blower motor. A blower motor, for you non-mechanical types, is the thing that makes your AC/heat/defroster work. It's the last two that are really of concern to me, and I'm sure, to the car when there is a frozen layer of ice on it. It costs $270 for a new blower motor. And that's what we call a $270 last straw. So, I said, Mr. Mechanic (actually, his name is Benny. Isn't that cute?), give me my diamond-in-the-rough car and its new battery back, blower motor be damned.

And so I drove, and I was mere blocks from my home beginning to look for an open spot to squeeze into when a police car's lights seemed to be pulling me over. Only, in my neighborhood, there's nowhere to pull over. This was only the second time in my entire 26-and-three-quarters years that I've been pulled over. The first time, I was so scared, I pulled over too fast, clipped the curb and popped my tire. This time, I just sat there, unsure of where to go and what to do. After about a minute and a half, I started to think maybe I hadn't been pulled over and I was just confused. Confusion is not very unlike me. So I started to get out of the car, which didn't go over so well, because everybody in the world except for me knows that you're not supposed to get out of the car when you're pulled over. Because, duh, I could have my Glock all ready to go.

Eventually, a cop sauntered up and asked me for the stuff, which I had all prepared. He informed me that my left brake light was out. I acted surprised. Then he asked about the big hole in the middle of my dashboard. I told him that someone bashed my window in and stole the stereo that used to fill the hole. He ran my tags, found out I wasn't a criminal, and sauntered back to give me my stuff. Then he asked about the big hole in the middle of my dashboard. I wanted to ask him if he had just been hit over the head by one of the crack-dealing hoodlums in my neighborhood. But I repeated the Great Window-Bashing, Stereo-Stealing Story of 2005.

It has since been pointed out to me that all of my car problems can be blamed on one person: David Hasselhoff. It was his old show, the one I used to love, "Knight Rider," that is likely responsible for the short-lived popularity of pop-up lights. I'm glad I have another reason to be outraged at David Hasselhoff, as well as the engineer who made it all happen.