Bad Meets Worse

Life is like a bowl of cherries, often sour and full of pits.

Oh, the horror!  I've been having truck trouble for a while now.  It seemed any time I made some money, something would go wrong with my aging Ford Ranger.  Well, it seems I won't have to worry about that any longer.  It's dead, Jim!

Saturday morning, the truck seized up.  With some help from my mechanically-inclined father, we found the possible source of the problem.  The cylinders were filling up with water, which meant a blown head gasket, at best.  However, when we found water in the oil, that clinched it.  The truck either has a cracked head, or a cracked block, either problem being so severe and costly it may not warrant repair.

Oh, but it gets better.

As a temporary measure (until I can round up another vehicle), my father was going to let me use his F150.  First thing when I get in it and put my foot on the brake pedal:  HISSSSSS.  Busted brake line, hooray!  Talk about kicking a guy while he's down.  What are the odds?  We had to get that fixed before I could use it.  We needed a brake line, but none of the parts shops are open on Sunday around here (not that we had a vehicle to drive to get the part we needed!)  Maybe shops are open all weekend in bustling metropolitan areas, but around here you're not going to find a mechanic before Monday morning.  That was an inconvenience, and it cost me a day of much needed work.

Welcome to the curious eccentricity that is my life.

The picture isn't as bleak as it could be.  Sure, I have no money, but at least I have several other derelict vehicles sitting around the house, any one of which could be road-worthy for a grand or so (hopefully).  This is shaping up to be a tough year, but I'll survive or die trying.