In which I pit my Beloved or: Please! Just put gas in the damn car.

The BBQ Pit
101

Here is my scenario: Mrs buttonjockey, and adult person, upon realising she screwed up, says to her husband: “I’m sorry, this was my fault and I was nervous and I overreacted. I won’t let it happen again. Thank you for knocking some sense into me. You know I love you! kiss kiss, cue music” :slight_smile:

I would never, under the OPs circumstances, have bailed her car, but that’s just me. I also think she was very rude and inconsiderate. What kind of person would walk all over his/her SO just to save some embarassment? “I’ll take your truck then”. That takes some gall. Her whole attitude just rubs me the wrong way, I have to admit that. I wouldn’t be surprised if she said “If you loved me you wouldn’t take their side!”

102

Yep. Maybe she’ll still get flats she can’t fix, but she sure as fuck don’t expect I’ll ever bail her out.

And Sauron, I hope you’re right. I just have never seen any evidence that way.

103

I am really sorry I missed this thread until it was a behemoth.

**I have two Clueless Guys and their Car stories. **

One is my friend Ken, who had asked his best friend, Mr. Ujest, to change the front light on his car for him because he didn’t know how do.

He did and the conversation was around how was the 3 year old car running that Ken had bought new three years ago.

“It’s a little sluggish. I think I need some of that carb cleaner stuff.”

After listening to car talk between two guys for awhile and my boyfriend/husband over analyzing everything and Ken, just basically totally clueless, I asked, " When was the last time you changed the oil and filters?"

Ken’s face went blank. My husband read him like a book. " You’ve never done that have you?"

In three years and godknows how many miles, he never changed the oil. The dipstick was bone dry. Ken was a day away probably from a massive engine failure if it weren’t for us.
**The other story is my brother John and how he got my old car. **

I drove an 81 phoenix. I had been rearended and the inusrance company paid for all the repairs except the gas gauge. It was working before I was hit, and it was on FULL after that on a permanent basis.

Since it wasn’t my car ( mom owned it, I paid for upkeep) and my brother John needed it more than I did ( according to my mother) she gave it to him. ( after I had just put $1200 into it of my hard earned 19 year old crappy pay. Mind you he was 26 and Mensa, but I have to hork over a car for him. I’m not bitter.

It was Halloween the day I told him about the gas gauge. " It doesn’t work. It’s stuck on F permanently."

My mom heard me tell him this. John lives on his own planet and off he went with MY car and I got my mom’s old peice of crap that bled me financially dry for years. That was the last car I ever got/was fobbed off from my mom. Oooh, look that nervous tic is starting up again.

That Thanksgiving I just get in from somewhere with my then-boyfriend (a parade) and my mom tells me that it is my brother on the phone and he is having car troubles. I try to figure out what the problem was, but the problem was something I never encountered before. " It just quit when I was driving."

So, I pack up the boyfriend and we drive to where ever my brother, his wife and MY car are stranded to rescue them. I go over what I know about the car and do my feeble tricks. Nothing works. My boyfriend innocently asks me from outside the car, " How’s the gas gauge?"

The lights go on in my head. It is full. " John, " I say in a barely controlled voice,
“When was the last time you filled this thing up?”

“Oh, not since I picked it up from you.”

Almost a month ago. I went ballistic and possible had a stroke at the vast amount of denseness he was at that moment. " I told you that the fuel gauge was broken.It’s stuck on F." I’m pretty sure what I said after that would make a sailor cringe.

We found a gas station that was open and I gave him five gallons, drove home, told my mom and she let him have it, too. Though no swearing, just loads of guilt.

104

catsix, I’m truly sorry to hear about the environment you grew up in. To a lesser extent, I also watched my mom berate my dad much more than I thought he deserved. Once when she was in a particularly foul mood and I was so fed up, I called her on it. Took my dad’s side & basically let her know in so many words that I thought she was being an ass. Bad idea. She didn’t take it well at all. Nothing productive came out of it and my dad told me I was out of line. I probably was but I thought she was too and I was tired of listening to it. Later, I asked my dad why he took that crap from her. He said that it honestly didn’t bother him, that’s who she is (sometimes difficult) and he loved her anyway. He chose to pick his battles but for the most part just let it roll off his back. They love each other very much, but they have quite a different relationship than my SO and I do. Though I probably am difficult like my mom, hopefully not as difficult. I did learn something from that experience, too.

Anyway, I kinda know where you’re coming from. And I agree that the kind of behavior you’ve seen is not right, but not everyone has those same issues. And those who do seem to be able to make the best out of a less-than-ideal situation. If you can break that cycle, then your mom and grandmother succeeded in teaching you something, if not what they had intended. Sorry you had to learn it the hard way. :frowning:

105

catsix’s experience is the experience that I saw a lot while growing up. My EBS* (Evil Bitch Sister, numerous threads) is Exactly that way. My awesome good sister, who lives on the west coast, is not that way at all. She tells me, when we discuss it, that its an ‘east coast thing’ and that its one of the reasons she has chosen to make a nice life for herself in Oregon.

While I may not agree that its limited to geography, I have seen it often in both my neighbourhood and schools while growing up. Sometimes my own wife is what catsix describes as ‘difficult’. But the times are few & far between and quite honestly its usually brought on by frustration at something else that is being projected. (And a smart man knows when its best Not to point that out)

For grins & giggles, I told my wife the story exactly how Buttonjockey308 presented it and asked her what she thought (to get a different perspective). She stared at me a moment and then said “That man’s wife must have the biggest pair of [I’ll say chest to be polite] in the world to get away with that [fertilizer]”. Now, I would never have been that graphic, nor that specific; as a man I feel that that’s just not for me to say. Still, I do suspect that Buttonjockey308’s wife may well be considered Exceptionally Beautiful externally and quite used to getting her own way because of it.