ut oh . . .

It has not been a good week for the 9TS.  

Last night, as we were headed to Carrabbas for our ritual Friday night dinner, the 9TS backed his 'baby' out of the driveway and into the cul-de-sac and there it died.  Unable to shift gears, it would not even start.  Think doornail.  Dead.

We pushed it back toward the house only to discover that the only hill in central Florida is the lip at the end of our driveway.  We grunted and groaned and heaved to no avail.  More troops were required.

The unsuspecting Joan and Eddie moved into the neighborhood (yay!) shortly after Paula and Dave  departed (boooo!)  I think they would have been friends . . .  but they'd be occupying the same house      . . .

Anyway, I wandered over and knocked on their door.  They should know by now not to answer my rapping     . . .  last time, we needed help digging a hole for the newly departed.  This time I was enlisting their brute strength.  Soon, Joanie, Edd and I were all grunting and pushing on the Vette's tender gray rump.

Success was had  . . .  many, many thanks to our friends . . . and much to the 9TS's dismay, we arrived at the restaurant in my little red, eleven year old, jelly bean. 

Luckily, by only a few miles, the Vette is still under warranty and was hauled off to the dealer this morning compliments of triple A.  The 9TS is not a happy camper at the prospect of a weekend+ with no Vette.  But as Joanie so aptly reminded us, at least we have a second car.  Food for thought.