Well, Ain’t That A Kick, Right In The Richard

You know when things happen and they’re so good/horrifying you can’t even make something up that would be better/more horrifying?

Me. This afternoon.

That little bastard. That pokey. I’m foreshadowing here. It’s a literary tactic.

Life needs to be scheduled, when you’re a divorced, working mother of three. So I set doctor appointments for my kids weeks in advance to get them on the days I need them.

Today was that day. It was also the day my car battery decided to go to battery heaven.

Fine. Okay. Reschedule, after swearing. I mean, I feel like everyone lets out a four-letter bomb when the battery dies. Ya?

It’s okay. The problem is Dodge wanted to really mess with chicks (and dudes, I guess) who know how to change batteries on normal cars so they put the battery behind the wheel well.

It’s OK. These lovely German or Dutch or some other accent-y European dudes told me how to find the battery on YouTube.

Ron told me where the charger was. And I connected. Like. A. Pro.

I declared myself a fresh mechanic and flexed. Obviously.

Then, riding my brilliance and self reliance, I decided I’d ride my bike with my son to his Ninja warrior class. It’s wasn’t far. And he had a hot new bike fresh off his birthday.

We. Got. This.

Until….some guy took up the entire sidewalk, forcing us to ride through a two-second section of dirt.

This is so crunchy. These rocks are sticking to the tires!

That was both of us, totally bewildered.

We pulled over. Not rocks.

THORNS! Like three thousand thorns.

Oh. My. Shit. Whhhyyy?

Did I really have a dead battery that I solved by riding my bike only to ride through thorns?


Mom, I can barely pedal. I. Can’t. Make. It.

My son, in the parking lot of Ninja warrior, basically riding on rims. The thorns had fully deflated both tires. Both band new tires.

They had gotten my front tire.

What are you doing? Why are all those pokeys in there?

That came from three tiny girls who came out of ninja warrior and saw me picking each razor sharp thorn out of our tires. They weren’t even as tall as my now deflated tire.

I told them to always stay on sidewalks before encouraging them to go with their mom, who was waiting for them to stop chatting.

She’s not our mom!

Okay. So now I made another painful assumption. Just killing Wednesday, that’s all.

The best part? The only car that can fit our bikes has a DEAD battery! I’m just saying a beer would be magical right now.