I am beginning to fear that my Ford Escape is becoming a hoopty. It is a 2001 with nearly 105,000 miles on it. It will be paid off in October. I got this car after my 2001 auto accident. My payment is way higher than it should be since I rolled debt into this vehicle. Previously I'd driven a mini van. It was a nice mini van, but I must admit buying that mini van was worse than turning 30. I felt all of my youth and beauty slip away when I sat behind that wheel. Maybe it was a premonition? Maybe part of me knew that vehicle spelled doom for me.

On September 6, 2001 I was on my lunch hour running an errand before returning to work. It was sunny and beautiful out. No clouds were in the sky, birds were singing, the whole sha-bang. Suddenly, out of nowhere the car heading towards me decides to do a U-turn. I am on a 2 lane 50mph country road and barely have time to brake. I hit Eddie's caddy going about 40 mph. My van went right into his passenger door. Luckily Eddie didn't have a passenger that day. Since I saw the accident coming I naturally locked my arms and braced myself. If ever in this situation DO NOT do this.

The impact was brutal. I took it in my wrist, elbow, and shoulders. The 2nd impact (where you fly backward into your seat after smacking forward into your seatbelt) is what did the lasting damage. I sprained my neck. I got whiplash. I had my nerves wake up to communicate pain. The problem is, these nerves never shut off. Once my silly nerves learned to scream pain, they got stuck. So, even though I'm physically healed, my nerves don't believe it. Neither does my brain -- it takes the nerves word for it that I'm in pain vs. listening to the healed soft tissue. Damn stubborn brain. Damn defective nerves!

My airbag never went off since I tried to steer out of the collision and hit Eddie's sparkly new Cadillac head on. The seatbelt I was wearing left lovely bruises across my hips and chest. I looked fine and felt fine after, but the mini van was not drivable. My Mom (always ready to help) came and rescued me and helped me pick up my kids from daycare that day. I called my boss who warned me to take the next day (Friday) off since he was certain I'd hurt by then since I felt no pain yet. He was so right. As Mom dropped the kids and I off I reached into her car for my bag. Pain shot from my hand up my arm into my neck. I yelped.

Mom was an occupational therapist. She'd been expecting my pain to arrive even though I was not. She took me to the hospital right then. Within an hour I could no longer turn my head. Pain wracked me to the point where I gently rocked myself on the hospital bed to try and sooth away the pain. The hospital assholes (I love medical people, but this hospital has a reputation for sucking -- why the hell did we go there that day? Close is no excuse) gave me NOTHING for the pain. I cried silently for hours. My Mom was home with my kids having taken them home for dinner after dropping me off. She then waited hours by the phone for my call. Hubby was working late -- none of us realized how much trouble I was in.

When I was finally given motrin or something it had no impact. The doctor gave me more, and after reviewing my x-rays sent me off with a nice prescription of Vicodin. Mom and I hit a drive through pharmacy on the way home and I swallowed a pill dry in the car. I'm no sissy. I've had two kids -- one without the epidural, thank you very much. This was pain. Really bad pain.

I didn't really sleep, by the next morning I was unable to move and didn't go to work. I stayed on the Vicaritta's all weekend. I iced. I heated. I laid on the coach in pain. I kept thinking, "Today is bad, but I'll be fine tomorrow." This thinking went on for several months. My doctor put me on a reduced work schedule with restrictions. I barely functioned. I'd drive to work, take a Vicodin, work, Vicodin would wear off, I'd drive home, take a Vicodin and lay on the couch. My Mom would come and pick me up, we'd go get my kids, we'd come home, she'd make dinner, hubby would come home, I laid on the couch. Somewhere before or after work I'd do physical therapy 4 days a week. I visited specialists. I had CAT scans, EMGs, ultrasounds and MRI's. I had daily pain that did not let up. I worried about becoming dependent on the Vicodin. I didn't sleep.

I begged my doctors to give me my life back. Finally, a specialist doctor of physical medicine (officially called a physiatrist) took on the task. I did 12 weeks of combined physical therapy, occupational therapy, and pain management. My boss was kind and put my out on full disability vs. a leave of absence. I returned with some restrictions, but was able to work back up to full time. I learned to manage the pain vs. letting the pain manage me. I learned not to have that look on my face all of the time. I discovered that people punch you in the arm (like the "hey pal, hey buddy!" type punch) all of the time. This silly hello punch is still excruciating for me to this day. I'm better at dodging now. People close to me have gotten good at remembering that touch can mean pain -- some people are so good that they ask before even hugging.

Pain got me to work out. Pain forced me into a healthier lifestyle (I've been slacking lately, but that trend will soon end!). Pain has taught me appreciation of the gifts of life.

I also learned that that fricking van was going to kill me. I got it back from the body shop and within 2 days had 2 close calls. One block of a main road near my home has a divided median. One block. After getting the van back a car pulled onto the road going the wrong way right at me on this ONE block. I had no escape. Luckily my honking and screaming alerted the fool to his error. The next day a large dog leapt into another main road -- the car next to me swerved to avoid, I had no options besides hitting it. I stood in the freezing rain next to the dog on the side of the road. Animal control came, there was nothing that could be done. He passed as I stood there with him. It was horrible.

The very next day I took the death mobile mini van to a car dealership and traded in for a 2001 Escape that was used. I made a five year payment plan and rolled the difference between what the van was worth and what I owed into the Escape's payment. Needless to say, my payment was and is hefty. I will be relieved to be rid of the payment, but darn it I fear she is becoming a hoopty! I took her in last week for brakes and service. The noise that concerned me persists AND there is a new one!

Back to the Escape. Last week I had the service manager drive in the car and he thought it was the odometer cable rubbing something that is making the new noise. My thinking is "Fix it dammit, it didn't make this noise before I came to you!" We agreed I'd drive it for my trip and see if things settled in. It is not settled, it may be getting worse. My goal is to drive the wheels off this car and I'm not ready for it to be a noisy hoopty! I'm not even done paying for it! She can't become a hoopty yet!!!

I need to take it back in, but I lost my damn wallet! UGH! I don't even have my driver's license. I don't have my ATM and credit card. All my important stuff is gone. Typically I lose things when stressed or overwhelmed. I am a little freaked out about my hubby T's work situation and money, but compared to where I've been this is MINOR stress.

Please don't be a hoopty. Please don't be a hoopty. Please don't be a hoopty.

Holy Cow. A small rant on my vehicle turned into a reliving of the accident. Strange rant today. Hmmmm..... now where the hell is my wallet??

Went home on my lunch hour and searched for the wallet again. No luck. I have no gas in the car. I hope I can make it back home. I'll have to send the husband out for gas. I need to go and get a new everything but I'll be damned if I'm getting a new license without getting my haircut first!! Dammit. I don't have time for this!!!