I’m driving home from work nice and early because heaven forbid I get any overtime, and a couple of nice country-types in a badass lifted 80s Silverado pull up alongside me and tell me my car is smoking. Odd, my temperatures are fine. Pull into the next parking lot which happens to be an O’Reillys and as soon as I stop moving smoke begins BILLOWING out from under my hood. Mildly annoyed at the coolant I would have to replace and the hose I would have to reattach as obviously I didn’t get one back on right after my recent radiator replacement, I pop the hood. Coolant covers every inch of the engine and no obvious unhooked hoses can be found. I wiggle a few of them around and then my blood turns cold a I look at the upper hose coming from the block. Right there, staring me in the face is an enormous split down my thermostat housing, intelligently made out of plastic by the geniuses at FoMoCo. So here I sit in the parking lot, with no tools. They have a new housing here to the tune of $60, but I will also need a thermostat and probably a new coolant temp sensor. Meanwhile my dad is bringing the Murdersofa to flat tow me two miles home during rush hour. This is the first time I’ve ever had a car strand me.

On the plus side, I think I can get the Champagne Shitbox running tonight.