This past week has been amazing, scary, and literally fabulous, all at the same time. Particularly yesterday.

My son’s truck broke down at University and I25. Not pretty. I mean, REALLY not pretty. He was on his way to work. It was 137 degrees in the shade and slurping ice water through a straw wasn’t fast enough to hydrate little bodies. His breakdown meant I had to load up the grandkids and my other kid (a 17 year old avid a/c fan) and go rescue him – and/or his truck.

Now, I have to admit, I’m a big fan of old cars/trucks. So long as they are dependable, run well and give me no sass. Not the case here.

I went to pick him up and took him to work, then brought Kenton back and forced him at gun point to drive the truck home without an air conditioner. (Okay… it was a water gun!) Sitting in my air conditioned van, I told my youngest son how to start the boo-boo.

Don’t touch the accelerator, try it. (Didn’t work.)

Push accelerator to the floor and hold it there until it starts – or I tell you to let it up; try it. (Nada)

Let up the accelerator, push it down 1/3rd of the way; try it again. (Of course, it started.)

He kept it running and I rolled up the window that was letting the hot air in, because I was sweating like a dog. I pulled forward out of his way and let him take the lead.

Now… I consider most older vehicles to be ‘road safe’ and don’t have a problem driving them. This particular truck though… Let’s just say the jury is still out. There are many considerations. Not the least of them is the fact that my son needs dependable wheels to get him to and from work on his job because he’s being considered for a promotion, dependability being one of those considerations. So, I’m seriously considering the concept of encouraging him to replace the boo-boo with something a bit less in need of a Curad Repair Center. This may be his “baby” but a baby with a bit more dependable features, safer safety features and capability to accomplish his transportation needs will suit him so much better. (And me too.)

So, why would I blog this story?

Because parents all over the world are facing similar issues and want to know what to do about it? They want to know how to help their kids find work? How to determine what kind of car their kids should buy? How to decide what they should do about the economic crisis that the world is facing? There are at least a million solutions to these problems, mine are working for me. Those who are listening find that my solutions work for them too. I know they do, because they email me and tell me – I followed your advice and woman you’re amazing. How did you know that if my son would apply to 7 businesses a day, he’d have a job within the month? Did I know? Not really, but their son needed a solution that he could believe in. I gave him one. It worked. Will others use the same solution? You better believe it. It worked once.

This isn’t ego. This is simply sharing my experience of life and encouraging others to become active readers, either by using solutions I offer, or offer their own solutions and ideas to my blog. (Honestly, more of my readers email. I get about three hundred emails a day and I answer every single one of them.) A while back I posted some information and it seemed to hit home with so many people asking me questions:

People were emailing me about the discussion my Mom and I had at high decibel about the cost of lawn mower blades after a 12 year old mowed the lawn. It wasn’t pretty, but people wanted to know.

Somebody else wanted to know why I didn’t particularly care for Oprah, and another somebody wanted to know if I had a recipe for Lobster Bisque? I shared my recipe. I explained that Oprah came through town and dissed the cowboys I know and love after her rowdy bunch of hooligans called them unbelievable names, and then she broadcast it all over the airwaves that we were a bunch of uneducated rednecks. While we may resemble that remark, we didn’t any of us need a twit from Chicago to stop in and tell us, or announce it to the whole world. I personally thought she needed a good sized hunk of cowboy boot stuck up her hinny to send her tootin’ out of town.

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