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!
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.