The Two Thousand Dollar French Fry

Got up at 4 AM to take Husband in to work, terrible storms raging. The body shop guy called and said he had my car ready early. Middle Son and I went down there together in Husband's car to pick up MY car. Husband's air conditioner needed to be fixed, so I called the mechanic (a different guy than the auto body guy) and asked if he could fix the A/C. Middle Son followed me with my car, and we dropped Husband's car off at the mechanic. I start to drive my car back home, and when we turn a corner it makes this awful clunk noise. So back to body shop guy we go. He gets out his hi-tech tools - a chain, a hammer and big jack-like device, and starts pounding and pulling and jacking some more on my smashed fender, to get it far enough away from the tire and wheel to stop the noise. He goes for a short test drive and it is still doing it, so he repeats the procedure. It was finally to the point where we could drive it and most of the time it didn't make the noises. Hadn't heard from the mechanic, so I called and they said his old A/C still ran on Freon, the now-outlawed coolant, and all of the fittings would have to be replaced before they could even test it! Dollar signs were dancing in my head! Daughter and I drove out to the Sprint office to pick up Husband (it finally stopped raining, thank God) and he came out, found us at the back of the parking lot, took one look at my smashed up car (he hadn't seen it) and said, "Damn that's ugly!" Like duh. We went by the mechanic and they had fixed his A/C, which cost a little over a hundred dollars, but he was afraid they were going to have to replace his compressor or something and it would be a lot higher, so that wasn't too bad. When we got home, there was a message that a DVD Daughter wanted for her birthday, but wasn't in stock, had come in from when we ordered it, so she and I went to pick up Middle Son at the end of his shift at McD, then the three of us went on up to the mall and got the DVD. Finally got story out of Middle Son on why he failed to stop. Says he was eating French fries, and dropped one, leaned down to pick it up. I glued a French Fry to a small wooden plaque with a label, "The Two Thousand Dollar French Fry" to serve a reminder of why he should always keep his eyes on the road. Fall asleep at midnight with some of my fingers glued together. The-sticky-and-exhausted-Marti

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