In which I fail tow-truck-driver school, twice

This is Molly. Until yesterday, I didn't even know she was a girl. But someone lifted up her skirt and she told me her name.



A few months ago, I finally paid my debt to General Electric (30 Rock's portrayal of them as an evil conglomerate owning everything is DEAD ON). A few weeks ago, they finally mailed me the happy pink piece of paper proving that my Vespa is now MINE.

Last week I made the 20 mile drive on my happy little Vespa out to the AAA offices to take care of the paperwork, updating the registration and asking for a new pink slip with yours truly listed as the rightful owner. It was awesome. Except that AS I PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT, she broke. I was very nearly killed by traffic whizzing and honking past me on the 50-mile-per-hour frontage road as the engine cut out completely and lost all power. But I think the real culprit here was our dear friend Situational Irony, who saw it fit to cause Molly to break down practically THE VERY MINUTE that I had her paid in full.

So I walked into the AAA offices to ask them whether I would need to call AAA for a tow or whether I could just tell them that I was here and needed a tow (turns out, I did, in fact, need to *call* AAA from the lobby phone *at* AAA; this adventure is full of little ironies). And so I waited in their lobby for one person to take care of the transfer of title on my now dysfunctional vehicle, and for another person to come assist with poor Molly's ailment.

The technician they sent couldn't tow Molly (I'm not sure what they intended to do with a pickup truck full of batteries and 2 gallons of gasoline), and I had to get to Clever Knits for my shift. So I left her there in the AAA parking lot, intending to return a day or two later to call again for a tow.

Then I got some sort of crazy flu, which is insignificant except that it explains the week-long hiatus in the middle of this story and the mean note from AAA that was sitting on Molly when I returned, informing me that they were going to have her towed if I didn't come move her within 72 hours (apparently one CAN get a tow from AAA without having to call).

In the meantime I did a wee bit of research myself on Vespa repairs (might as well have been in Greek), and talked to a friend whose mechanically savvy husband was sure the repairs were way over his head, and likely would involve a full engine rebuild. I did call the Vespa dealership, who said something about 'transmission' at which point I remember little else -- the last time I heard a fix-it person say 'transmission' the bill was over $4,000 (and that was 10 years ago!)!

Yesterday I returned to the AAA parking lot in mama's truck to arrange to have Molly towed to the Vespa dealership for repairs. Upon seeing Molly in the lot, Chad the Tow Truck Driver - voice heavy with irony - said, "Oh, this will be fun." And it was! He didn't want me standing on the hydraulic bed of the tow truck for fear that I'd slip or trip or otherwise meet with grievous injury, so instead HE LET ME RUN THE CONTROLS. And it was awesome. Except for the part where I nearly ejected Chad into the sky, because up is down and back is forward when one is dealing with a hydraulic flat bed on a tow truck. But we DID manage to get Molly safely on board the tow truck, and the driver followed me to the dealership, where we got to play the Helena-Fails-Tow-Truck-Driver-School game all over again. As I signed the paperwork before he left, Chad even said to me, "You should not drive a tow truck."

The story does have a happy ending, though. Molly now has a name, and she's running better than ever, and her repairs were so RIDICULOUSLY simple that the AWESOME repair dudes at Vespa of Oceanside called me less than 30 minutes after I dropped her off to tell me that she was all ready to pick up. And the grand total to bail her out was less than $160, for the replacement drive belt and rollers AND LABOR.