For the past month I have been driving my car with a broken back window. Well, the window itself is not broken, just the motor that keeps it up. My car has been nicknamed "Ghetto Mark" until the problem is fixed. To temporarily fix the problem, I invested in some duct tape, you know, that thing that people says solves all of life's problems? I wouldn't say it solved the problem, but it did give me a temporary solution until I was willing to spend the money to get it fixed. Yet another adult responsibility. Everyday I understand more and more why your parents tell you to enjoy your childhood as long as you can. Don't get me wrong, I'm loving this adult thing, but there are just so many more things to do, and you HAVE to do them.
Well, this weekend my wonderful brother (wow, record this moment, I don't know how often I say that) helped to actually solve my window dilemma!
I visited the lovely New Market this weekend to help Stephen and Caroline move to their new home and Stephen offered to look at my window and see what he could do. He finally got my door apart and after about thirty minutes my window was up, ALL THE WAY, without duct tape! He even worked diligently through the rain and all he needed was a few feet of copper wire which he just happened to have lying around his house.
Yes, my window will no longer go down, but it's in the back, and as my Dad pointed out, it only means no drunk people allowed in the back! Maybe I should have blogged about my brother's Macgyver skills too, must be something in the name...
So, no more Ghetto Mark. No more stopping off at rest stops to pull my window back up. No more replacing duct tape as it shrivels in the sun. No more annoying load noises on the highway. So, thanks Stephen! You saved me time and money, and I would say we even had a little fun fixing it too!
Yes, the title has nothing to do with the post. Well, actually, it does. My brother is random, so it only fits that the title to this post would be too. And this title was sung throughout the house all weekend long.
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