My Tran

My poor Tran is in the shop. You know, my Tran - part truck, part van - that I got for Christmas from Husband. The Chevy Envoy. It's been in the shop since Wednesday and will be there until Monday. At least. It's sick, my poor little vehicle.

Friday night when we got home from the airport, I said to Husband, I smell gas, as I was walking to the house. Gasoline, people, jeesh. He didn't smell anything, but his sniffer isn't as good as mine. So on Saturday, when I was in town doing errands, I smelled gasoline again every time I got out of the Tran. And the poor girl was not wanting to start. I came home and told Husband I thought there was a gas leak. He didn't believe me because he said the gas gauge would be moving. Which is wasn't. On Sunday the same thing was happening, but I didn't press the issue, other than to tell him it was still happening, because he really didn't believe me. On Sunday there was a half tank of gas. On Monday afternoon, when I went to pick the boys up from school, there was a quarter tank of gas, and I had stayed home all day. When we got home from school, it was below an eighth of a tank. So I told him there was definitely a leak. This time he believed me and booked the Tran to get fixed. Turns out something was corroded off of the tank and couldn't be fixed - it needed to be replaced - resulting in my Tran needing a new gas tank. A NEW GAS TANK. And I've only had the poor little thing for a month.

I can't believe how much I miss it. Seriously. I seriously, truly miss it. I asked Husband if it would be weird of me to go visit it yesterday and just sit in it for awhile. He assured me it would be quite weird. But I still miss it.

So I've been driving Fil's truck since he's joined Millie in Florida. But it's still not my Tran. I am so very sad. Not really, I'm just after the dramatic here. I'm just a little bit sad. Not despondent sad. Just regular sad.