I’m currently driving down the California Interstate 5 in a BMW. Well actually I’m riding shotgun because apparently blogging and driving is implied to be illegal, but also because I am giving my best friend Abby a turn to drive this beaut. Do either of us own a BMW? No. Did we steal it? Wouldn’t put it past us.
This whole fiasco started four days ago when my mother warned me not to drive my shitty 2004 Nissan Xterra from San Diego to San Francisco because it “wouldn’t make it.” I called bullshit and told her she was being overdramatic. The Xterra had been my trusty steed all throughout high school and had never been to the shop. Apparently the saying “mamma knows best” is more reputable than I though, because six hours into an eight-hour drive to San Fran and my “trusty steed” broke down in a little town called Los Banos. In case you don’t speak Spanish, “Los Banos” means “the bathroom.” This town is a literal shit hole.
We are over two hours outside of SF and literally stranded on the side of the road. Thankfully, there was an In-N-Out a quarter mile down the highway, so we didn’t starve. However, my parents were six hours away and sure as hell not driving to save my entitled ass. After numerous unsuccessful attempts to jump the piece of shit car by the most manly (attractive) In-N-Out patrons we could find, we finally gave up and called AAA. They, too, were unable to fix the car and opted to tow it to BFE for a “small fee” (which ended up being a free fee after I sweet talked the tow man and offered him some of our road snacks). Once the tow truck showed up, we then had to conquer the next problem. How the fuck were we going to drive the remaining two hours to San Fransisco with no form of transportation?
You know how at Big/Little Reveal you and your little vow basically in blood to do anything for each other? Well, a brief four months after initiation, I decided now was the time to cash in on that favor. All it took was one phone call, and my little Summer came speeding down from northern California battling 5pm rush hour traffic to come to her biggie’s rescue. #sisterhood
Once we figured out the ride north, I decided this was as good a time as any to finally call my mother and enlighten her on our little “situation.” My mother first laughed out loud, then became furious with me for not listening to her (*blah blah blah insert motherly shit here*). After 45 min of driving in circles in a tow truck around “The Toilet” (or whatever the fuck this town was called), trying to come up with a plan for the car, my ranting mother finally told us she would call a friend.
Super Dave to the rescue. My mom has this super hot, cool 32-year-old friend named Dave that is an all-powerful basically mythical figure in our household whom my mother seems to worship regularly. (Cougar alert.) Super Dave seems to know everyone everywhere and is able to hook you up wherever you are. As we waited for Summer at a truck stop drinking wine coolers and eating doughnuts with sketchy reception and no wifi Super Dave worked his magic. Within fifteen minutes, he had managed to waive the car storage fee and hook us up with a sweet new BMW that was waiting for us in San Francisco upon our arrival. NBD.
So here I am. Four days later. Flying down the coast of California, windows down, wind in my hair. Most mothers will think the moral of this story is to listen to your mom. That, my friends, is NOT the moral of this story. The moral of THIS story is that if you disobey your mother and take a spontaneous trip to San Francisco (after slight bumps in the road) with the help of your little, you too can have a new BMW. That is all..