RE: Flashback Friday: Mom Speaks of the Curse!

After sharing with you all on Friday my family's long heritage of car woes, I was blessed with a wonderful reply.....from my mom.

She left it on my Facebook page using dad's login. At first I thought I was in the doghouse (sorry ma; I could have sworn we were running someone over in a fit of maternal emotion!.....Perhaps, being an imaginative child, I was just making up a more exciting story in my mind); but Mommy Stromberg just wanted to clarify a few things, for the record:

"I never almost ran ANYONE over. That car got a flat tire on the belt Parkway in Brookyn with grandma, Aunt Sis, and Uncle Artie and you in the car. I was about 8 months pregnant. I pulled the car over to the shoulder of the Belt Parkway with light snow falling and me, 8 months pregnant, trying to flag down some help. With no luck. After about 30 minutes with no aid at about 12 midnight, I decided to ride on the flat to the exit ramp to the nearest gas station. It was late and the gas attendant would not let us put the car in the garage, as there was no one at this late hour to help. He said leave the car over night and the garage people will attend to it in the morning. We went to grandma's house (by car sevice) and called dad , (who promptly scolded me for riding on the flat and probably damaging the rim). About 25 minutes later I got a call from the garage, stating my car had been broken into while parked at the gas station. The attendant told the criminals (not knowing they were criminals at first) to get out of the car after they had broken in. They left with some of dashboard, but at least the car was not stolen. The next day we road home with a replacement tire, which unbeknownst to me was the WRONG size; all the way home the car shook and rattled, scaring this 8 months pregnant lady to death. Again dad scolded me because the gas station had put the wrong tire on. (Of course, my fault).

You forgot the car that had NO REVERSE. I had to park on high ground so I could roll out of a parking spot, or push it. There was the car with no key, it had a permanent screwdriver in the ignition to start it. One of these two also had a driver door that would NOT open and the driver side window did not work; someone had to sit shot gun if you went thru a toll. Then there was the car that stalled and you had to bang the starter with a hammer to get it to work. An Dad's white convertible had to be filled with oil EVERY time you drove it, as it leaked profusely as you drove. Don't forget the car we had to push and then pop the clutch to get it started, luckily it was small."

Well, damn, she's better at this than me. Thank you mom, for sharing more wonderful memories that I seem to have forgotten, and for letting everyone know where I get my sarcasm from. You gotta have a sense of humor to deal with the trials and tribulations of the Strombergs. Luckily, we do. 

Thanks Mom. <3