Can It Get Any Weirder?

I'll tease with the above picture but start my dialog by saying, "You know how Bob and I have been having really bad luck with cars and trucks for the past few months?" Well, it only gets weirder so read on.
Our good friends Caltha and Jerry gave us their used Subaru Impreza. Gave it, as in "free"... very generous indeed! Gotta love friends like that! Thank you!!! By last Sunday, it was registered, legal and ours and in our yard, awaiting a muffler replacement, to be done by a friend of a friend (also named Bob). There were a few part-not-ordered mishaps (thanks to the AutoZone in the next town- don't get me going) but the parts were assembled and Car Bob installed the system. It only took an hour, we fired it up and it ran like a charm. I did some errands, exclaiming how wonderful it was to be a two-vehicle household again.
Monday morning I say to Bob, "Just think; I'll drive the car to work and the truck is here, ready to take you to the store or deliver a job you've finished... whatever you need to do!" Of course, nothing is that simple. The car exploded to life but proceeded to get louder and louder and wouldn't run without my foot on the gas. So I sat there thinking, "This is too much". Bob heard the car's commotion from all the way down in his studio and when I turned the car off (as there was no way I could drive it) it kept making this over-heated pinging noise and generally acted like it was going to explode. Needless to say, I took the truck.
So at lunch, I decided to drive up to the garage that had disposed of my Honda and get the $50 that scrapping the car had gotten (Pathetic). I got in the truck, looked ahead of me, saw a co-worker  standing in front of me, standing in front of his truck and I thought, "Oh, I'll never fit between him and the next car over. I'll just back up." The result is the damaged car, above.
You see, the truck is very high. When I looked out my back window, I didn't even see the Volkswagon Passat directly behind me. It gets worse.
I go into the building to find my victim, who turns out to be an elderly (and now irate) customer of the auction house who was there to consign merchandise. I sheepishly confess what I have done- really, I felt terrible (and stupid!) but hey! I wasn't trying to hit her (deep breath) brand new (as in she hasn't even had it a week) car. I mean, brand spanking new...
I will not go into the pitch of her fury or that she insisted I call the State Police, who told me that as I readily admitted that I'd hit her car and it was on private property and no one was hurt, they didn't really need to send a trooper. But she insisted; I think she was hoping the feds would haul me off in leg irons. The police officer who arrived was very nice, and I am sorry to say, entertained by how out for vengeance (or at least a pound of flesh) my victim was. He actually smiled benevolently at me and her and said, "Look: it was an accident. She (me) admits she hit your car. All you need to do is exchange information." My victim kept insisting that the police officer write up a report, treating it as a crime scene. He replied that they don't investigate or file reports on cases like this, as there was no case. She kept insisting that I be publicly stoned or taken to a labor camp or at least chained to a rock where Ford F 150's would back up into me all day long. Something, anything... she wanted justice.

(Insult to injury, absolutely nothing happened to our truck. I think that bulge in front of the license plate directly impacted her hood. Sorry!) The upshot was that she decided she didn't feel safe driving her car and would wait for a tow truck to drag her poor car all the way to Greenwich (although the police officer and a few of my sympathetic* co-workers assured her that absolutely nothing had happened to her engine, just her hood was smashed in and looked dramatically awful but it started and ran just fine.) Did I say I felt really bad? I did, several thousand times but she did her best to berate me, so much so that it got funny and even the police officer was laughing. (Discretely, but he was amused.) She actually waited for that tow truck all afternoon. Like until 4:00. We all took turns, looking out the window expressing disbelief that she was still there. Even the cop, who had kept a vigil with her finally left. (I bet she gets a bigger car next time she's in the market for a new ride.) I drove all the way home at twenty miles an hour and will only go forward from now on.
And the car? Car Bob came back out to check out what on earth had caused the Subaru to threaten to explode... but of course when Bob and Bob started it up and took it out for a test drive, it performed perfectly. Am I nuts? Did we need this? Bob and I can't believe our bad "kar-ma".

*Sympathetic to me as she really was a bitch. I mean, yes, I wrecked her brand new car and probably ruined the rest of her life but give me a break! I was very contrite! My co-workers all watched as she continued to harangue me.

The Red Truck Decade

As you may recall, Bob and I were hot in pursuit of a new(er) Ford F 150. AND we had such specific requirements: conventional rear wheel drive, short cab, long bed, standard transmission... I am happy to report that we have found our truck and it is here!
We did have to drive to New York state and it did take a few anxious weeks of constant Craig's List/Car Fax/Auto Trader/ Car Gurus etc etc to locate the right truck. And not one of those icky odd green ones that I kept seeing. This truck is "toreador red" (Who thinks these color names up?!) I guess the color comes in handy if we decide to herd bulls.

Here's the front in relation to the old trucks back and vice-versa:

We didn't really want the cap on top, but it may prove handy when transporting delicate art work, and yes, that duct tape on the upper right of the cap! But it's just clamped on so we can lift it off and store it behind Bob's studio when not in use.
But here's a trully awful view of our driveway.

What with our Honda, the old F 150, the new F 150 and Mommy's now deceased Subaru, we have four cars in the yard. Looks like a parking lot.... But hooray! We're more than happy with the new vehicle: Bob said it drove really nicely and feels more like a car than a truck. The dealership was an hour and a half away so he had plenty of time to get acquainted with the new truck on the way home.
Both Bob and I confessed that it was a nerve wracking experience. The dealership has been there for like a million years so I wasn't too scared that they were trying to rip us off (despite this weird Soviet-style sales tax switcheroo. Still don't get that...) but we both admit to feeling stressed while spending thousands of dollars. The truck was a good deal and under our price point so I am pleased, but it's still tough to hand over large sums of money even if you're getting what you want. This must be what it feels like to buy art! Hahaha.
So tonight, we can relax, knowing that we have a newer truck and that the second Republican debate is on for entertainment. We're getting Chinese food, a bottle of wine and our Bernie Sanders bumper sticker is getting applied to the new bumper.