CAR-ella DEVIL

I will no longer accept any reference to the Saturn that I used to affectionately call “Buddy” except “The Devil.” The Devil is trying to ruin my summer and all the carefree feelings that accompanies it.

The plan was easy enough. After returning the rental car we would pick up The Devil and return to Boston. Bill called last week to make sure this plan was sound only to learn that the mechanics father had died and The Devil would not be ready until Tuesday. All right, a complication… we have gotten good at these. New plan: return the rental, take a 6-hour Greyhound bus trip back to Boston, and on Tuesday Beth will take ANOTHER 6-hour Greyhound bus trip back to White Plains and return with The Devil.

I went to pick The Devil up yesterday from good old White Plains, New York. Things did not go smoothly. The bus trip was fine; the walk to the auto shop was fine; picking up The Devil was fine; driving The Devil away from the auto shop was fine; 5 miles later, things were not fine. The Devil overheated and I was once again stuck in White Plains, NY with a broken-down Devil.

Apparently, The Devil has fallen in love with White Plains and refuses to leave, while I now detest White Plains. The Devil left me high and dry waiting for my third Greyhound bus trip in 4 days. And while I do recommend that everyone take the Greyhound at least once, (I saw a lady take two huge gulps of olive juice before popping an olive in her mouth) I do not suggest making a habit of it.