It started with some bushes
We moved into a new home a little more than a month ago, and when we did there were two things that immediately caught my eye. Above the bay window in the living room, there was a neatly nestled bird's nest with a family of small birds living there. This was OK. My kids love birds, and being up high in the air would allow the kids to see the birds but not reach the birds. The second thing I noticed was that the bushes in front of the house were in pretty sorry shape. In speaking with our new landlord, he concurred with that assessment, and he agreed they should be removed.
A few weeks passed, and our landlord came with his pickup truck and a chainsaw, and began removing the eyesore bushes, leaving just short stumps sitcking up out of the ground. That was OK by me because I could take a hacksaw to said stumps and finish the job. After all, the landlord was doing most of the work. It was the least I could do.
The problem was that I didn't have a hacksaw, nor did I have the funds to run out and buy one, having just shelled out first, last and security (plus a pet deposit...not for the birds, mind you.) So I added the stumps to my list of things to do that would, hopefully, be done by the end of the summer.
Fast forward another couple of weeks, and my wife declared intense displeasure because one of the birds had apparently let loose a dirty bomb and it streaked right down the beautiful bay window in our living room. What's more, we live in a raised ranch and there's no ladder on the premises. The window that was defaced is the kind that you crank open, and the location of the aforementioned dirty bomb was just far enough out of my reach that we couldn't clean it from inside the house.
Now, I stand 6'4", and my weight is classified. No ladder, no means to scale the wall outside, and no 8' tall brother who could reach the location of the dirty bomb, I was out of luck. But would my wife accept that excuse? Highly unlikely. So I put on my thinking hat, and a wonderful inspiration struck me. Why not pull my wife's car right up alongside the house, stand on the trunk, and clean the aforementioned dirty bomb? Made sense to me! So I went to inform my wife of my plan, to which she responded, "OK, but the first moment you feel the metal start to buckle, you get the hell off!"
I mentioned that my weight is classified, right?
OK, so I pull the car around and line it up right alongside the house, with the nose of the car approaching the sidewalk to our front door, directly over the small stump of one of the bushes my landlord cut away (remember the bushes? And the stumps? And the hacksaw I haven't got?)
Well, it turns out that even standing up on the trunk, I wasn't able to reach the location of the aforementioned dirty bomb. Feeling somewhat perplexed about the next thing to try, but feeling slightly vindicated at not having dented the trunk by standing on it (guess moving must have shed a few pounds), I clambered down, got into the car and started her up. I put the car into reverse, and that's when I heard a terrible sound.
The front bumper of our 1998 Lincoln Continental is made of fiberglass, and isn't held on by more than a couple of bolts, I would guess. See, I've spent most of my adult life driving vehicles a little higher off the ground than this. So it took me completely off guard when the aforementioned fiberglass bumper got caught on the aforementioned stump, and the end result of putting the aforementioned 1998 Lincoln Continental into reverse was that the front bumper lay nicely on the ground, directly underneath the bird's nest, from where one of the aforementioned birds dropped the aforementioned dirty bomb.
"Oh my GAWWWWWWWWWWWD!"
I ran out in front of the car, saying lightning fast Hail Marys and Our Fathers in hopes that my wife would not look out the window of our bedroom and see me frantically trying to replace the aforementioned fiberglass bumper without the benefit of a screw, bolt or other fastening device.
I was relatively pleased that it slid right into place, but I just knew that this could not be a permanent fix. The problem is, I'm not getting paid until next week, and maybe by then I can do a more permanent job. In the mean time, I'm staying away from parking at curbs, and hoping and praying that the bumper doesn't come flying off, particularly when my wife is driving!
My wife took the car to an inspection station today to see what it would need to pass the Maine safety inspection. After the mechanic gave her the run down, totaling approximately 1500, she has voted to trade in the car for something newer. The least of the worries is the bumper, as it turns out. I think I'm in the clear, but I'm dreading going car shopping!
And the birds are still quite comfortably nesting in their nest, though there have not been any more sneak attacks!
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