So, my husband finally replaced his old beat up volkswagen rabbit convertible (otherwise known as a cabriolet that is the same age as my little brother, who is now of legal age to consume alcohol).

It all started on his birthday. On his birthday, he picked up our son from school and stopped at the mail box to get the mail. When he got back in the car, it wouldn’t start. He and my son had to push the car the rest of the way up the street and into the garage. Little did I know at the time that this was the beginning of the end.

The car has died like this on numerous occasions, so many that I became nervous about taking the vehicle out for family trips in the summer (which is kinda the whole point of owning a convertible anyway, isn’t it?). One time, a county sheriff had to push the car out of one of the busiest intersections in town, into a grocery store parking lot, and I had to go pick up my hubby and take him home.… [Read More]