Whatever. I need to get back to work. I need to pick up an important package for my housemate and deliver it by 6:00 pm. I need to get home. The secretary (not the manager) suggests the possibility of a loaner car. (Bless her!) "Oh, yeah -- we can do that." Great. I get in the car, praying for easy traffic as I cruise onto the highway... and notice the car slowing. There is no gas in the loaner car. Ha ha ha. I am lost, stranded somewhere between Manchester and East Hartford, with no gasoline and no idea where a station may be. This is when I scream. LOUD. Like a throat-straining scream. Then I gun the last bit out of the car to the exit ramp and get within eyesight of a station sign. I walk and bring someone back to help me push. Whew! Pay before serving: I give $10 and ask for regular unleaded. It doesn't pump. After a minute, we figure out they've run out of gas. Ha ha ha. Luckily, they do have some 89 grade. Great! I pump that and notice it's charging the already-exorbitant Connecticut gas price for the even more expensive "credit" charge. I go back to point out that I already paid in cash. He shrugs, "That's the only option on that one." This is where I actually envision strangling someone. He's the closest person. I storm out and begin to whimper as I struggle to open the loaner door; a woman waiting there for something says she understands the day I must be having since she came to get her car and it's been taken to the other shop. Oh yes, that's comparable. I give her part of the shpiel until I notice she's beginning to glaze, and I ask for directions to I-91. Nice of her, she gave them to me. Unfortunately, they were wrong. Ha ha ha.

I do manage to get to my housemate's work and drop off his material just shy of 5:45. I go home and lock up the newest category of car in my driveway (with my The Club on it -- just my luck to let it get stolen easily from the very place the last one went bye-bye). I go inside and call my father to be sure I haven't left any loopholes for insurance or loaner cars or... what's this? A letter from Roy's Towing informing me the police found my car, along with forty others, several days before. I call. The frame's all that's left (well, it had been two months), and they're holding it for fingerprinting. When they're done, I'll have to pay the towing fee (see: $60) and holding fees per hour (see: $40 per hour). Ha ha ha. That's the insurance's problem! They bought the car! We settled! Right? No... Not exactly.

You see, my father lost the title. Without it, they can't process the paperwork. Without paperwork, the car's still my car... uh, frame. At $40/hour holding fee. The new title is processing; it should take four to six weeks. Ha ha ha.   Moral of the story: don't buy from individuals, don't live in Springfield where rates are highest (more than Boston, I hear), don't get Lo-Jack, don't believe mechanics, don't get anything "comp", don't trust the police, don't expect too much of people, and don't let your car get stolen in the first place. In fact, don't buy a car. It's easier in the long run. By the way, I plan to sell mine.