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Death of the Rolling Turd

Updated: Jan 5, 2020

After staying over in El Paso the next morning we stopped at an auto shop. John had thought maybe a chip or fuse had blown and that’s why the AC wasn’t working. If that was the case we could easily buy one and fix it. So we did. And waddya know? Fixed! Sweet AC flowing from the vents. Hope that the second days leg of the journey would be nothing like the first. We fueled up. Merging onto the interstate I punched the gas to prevent us from being crushed like a crumb by the 18 wheeler fast approaching behind us. Well we didn’t get crushed, but something inside of me crumbled as the AC ceased its nourishing blow through the vents. I had blown the fuse again. John looked at me and said he bought 2, but we should maybe just wait until we absolutely needed it. I agreed and we continued on. The rest of the day wasn’t quite as bad. I enjoyed the beautiful, foreign terrain along the Rio Grande river. Finding still that the world was full of borders of all kinds. Even though I felt like I had broken through one there was a multitude of others out there.

The heat crept up again as we drove through New Mexico. We tried replacing the fuse when we needed to no avail. This time AC wasn’t even entertained. Not even for a minute. We reached Tucson, Arizona for lunch and then Phoenix by the late afternoon. The seats of my car permanently sweat stained in outlines of the bodies and swampy asses that sat in them. My mom greated us and then we quickly heaved ourselves into the pool where we remained for the remainder of the day catching up and telling the tale of our travels and of the man with the heart of gold known as John. The universe brings you companions when you need them the most. Mine walked across the sun with me and never complained about it. Not once. We thought we might as well go off and do something fun the next day before John had to jump on a plane back to Dallas. We decided on an excursion near the Superstition mountains. That next morning we returned to the sweat stained seats of my car, turned the key and then SCREECH, BOOM, smmmmoookkeee.

My car blew up.

All prayers had expired.

My big rolling turd had met its end. was time to call a tow.

After I called I sat on a step for awhile staring at my dead car in silence and disbelief. Maybe, just maybe it wasn’t such a big turd after all. It carried me through the worst of it on 3 legs nonetheless. The screech of its belt a mere battle cry as it charged forward on its final suicide mission. It made it to it’s exact destination, no sooner, and not one single inch further.

I was sad to see it hoisted up and towed away. It truly deserved a 21 gun salute. With my hand over my heart I watched them take my big loving turd away....

(photo from years before my baby’s final suicide mission)

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