dont let your dumb ass wife drive your car...




Keeps me out of the body shop and us on excellent terms.
My wife has craked up every car she has ever driven. Not owned....DRIVEN! I was speaking to her brother once, and he told me she wrecked thier mother's car in high school and his 5.0 Mustang GT in college. Yep, sure enough on our honeymoon... she ran off the road trying to avoid some other driver in Maui. Thank god that wasn't the day we went to the top of Haleakala or the road to Hana!
FWIW, I hit a deer in my E55 back in Nov (I did get the satisfaction of putting a 9mm behind the deer's ear - don't think that will work for you
). Those front end pieces are pretty cheap. I think the entire bumper, painted, was like $1200.Relax, have a drink, kiss your wife and get the car fixed.
Good luck!+1 I'd burn the E to dust before I'd disrespect my wife. Other than that, I do feel for ya.
The Best of Mercedes & AMG
All i ask of her is to treat the $100,000 vehicle with respesct&extra caution.
So yeah,I would prefer if you parked it ALLL THE WAAY over there instead of right in front of the store so the inconsiderate ******* doesn't open his car door into ours,again.
-I'd appreciate it if you didn't park so close to the curb nextime to avoid the curb rash as there is only 1 wheel left out of 4 that aren't rashed up.
-I'd like it if you were able to pull into the 9' wide garage with the 6' wide car & not hit the abrasive cement wall on the way in with the expensive mirror.And then open the door into the wall so you can get out&survey the damage.
-I'd prefer it if you were more careful with your carmel swirl latte on the way to work so you don't spill it down the side of the console&onto the carpeting,and were too lazy to clean it or tell me so that I could.
-If it's not too much to ask of you,next time don't put the 2 aluminum trays of cupcakes your taking to the school for the kids party on the trunk deck because the scratches were impossible to get out.
-(my favorite)And last but not least,next time you back up our 700' driveway in reverse to show off please remember that your cousin has his dump truck&excavator trailor parked at the top so you don't drive up onto the ramps of the trailer and manage to get the $106,000 Porsche 997 stuck&hanging off the side of trailer bed because the car is now dangling off the side on it's frame because you didn't see it
I have many more horror stories of this nature,so dc63er I feel your pain
Life is not eternal, it is short-lived; so spending any amount of time to afford your car is a big deal.
So if your wife, or anyone messes with your car then they are open to the consequences.
The best way to keep your wife out of your car is to buy a stick shift. Mine is Korean and she reacts to a manual box like Superman to Kryptonite.
FWIW, I hit a deer in my E55 back in Nov (I did get the satisfaction of putting a 9mm behind the deer's ear - don't think that will work for you
). Those front end pieces are pretty cheap. I think the entire bumper, painted, was like $1200.Relax, have a drink, kiss your wife and get the car fixed.
Good luck!



FWIW, I hit a deer in my E55 back in Nov (I did get the satisfaction of putting a 9mm behind the deer's ear - don't think that will work for you
). Those front end pieces are pretty cheap. I think the entire bumper, painted, was like $1200.Relax, have a drink, kiss your wife and get the car fixed.
Good luck!My car will do all that, except its ALWAYS in the drive when i need it....
Sorry... just a little bitter right now...
edit: I do not condone disrespecting your girlfriend, wife, any women, or any people for that matter...
Love and respect is what its all about... and when the love is gone (has left), sell your scratched up clk320 with its curbed wheels, and buy yourself an e55, which, until now i might add, IT SCRATCH FREE...
My conclusion, you cant have sex and a perfect car...
Last edited by narf; Jul 25, 2007 at 10:37 AM.
All i ask of her is to treat the $100,000 vehicle with respesct&extra caution.
So yeah,I would prefer if you parked it ALLL THE WAAY over there instead of right in front of the store so the inconsiderate ******* doesn't open his car door into ours,again.
-I'd appreciate it if you didn't park so close to the curb nextime to avoid the curb rash as there is only 1 wheel left out of 4 that aren't rashed up.
-I'd like it if you were able to pull into the 9' wide garage with the 6' wide car & not hit the abrasive cement wall on the way in with the expensive mirror.And then open the door into the wall so you can get out&survey the damage.
-I'd prefer it if you were more careful with your carmel swirl latte on the way to work so you don't spill it down the side of the console&onto the carpeting,and were too lazy to clean it or tell me so that I could.
-If it's not too much to ask of you,next time don't put the 2 aluminum trays of cupcakes your taking to the school for the kids party on the trunk deck because the scratches were impossible to get out.
-(my favorite)And last but not least,next time you back up our 700' driveway in reverse to show off please remember that your cousin has his dump truck&excavator trailor parked at the top so you don't drive up onto the ramps of the trailer and manage to get the $106,000 Porsche 997 stuck&hanging off the side of trailer bed because the car is now dangling off the side on it's frame because you didn't see it
I have many more horror stories of this nature,so dc63er I feel your pain
Thanks for reminding me Hun
Dear xxxx,
I know the counselor said we shouldn't contact each other during our "cooling off" period, but I couldn't wait anymore. The day you left, I swore I'd never talk to you again. But that was just the wounded little boy in me talking. Still, I never wanted to be the first one to make contact. In my fantasies, it was always you who would come crawling back to me. I guess my pride needed that. But now I see that my pride's cost me a lot of things. I'm tired of pretending I don't miss you. I don't care about looking bad anymore. I don't care who makes the first move as long as one of us does.
Maybe it's time we let our hearts speak as loudly as our hurt. And this is what my heart says: "There's no one like you, xxxx." I look for you in the eyes and breasts of every woman I see, but they're not you. They're not even close. Two weeks ago, I met this girl at Flamingos and brought her home with me. I don't say this to hurt you, but just to illustrate the depth of my desperation.
She was young, maybe 19, with one of those perfect bodies that only youth and maybe a childhood spent ice skating can give you. I mean, just a perfect body. **** like you wouldn't believe and an *** that just wouldn't quit. Every man's dream, right? But as I sat on the couch being blown by this stunner, I thought, look at the stuff we've made important in our lives. It's all so superficial.
What does a perfect body mean? Does it make her better in bed? Well, in this case, yes, but you see what I'm getting at. Does it make her a better person? Does she have a better heart than my moderately attractive xxxx? I doubt it. And I'd never really thought of that before.
I don't know, maybe I'm just growing up a little. Later, after I'd tossed her about a half a pint of throat yogurt, I found myself thinking, "Why do I feel so drained and empty?" It wasn't just her flawless technique or her slutty, shameless hunger, but something else. Some nagging feeling of loss. Why did it feel so incomplete? And then it hit me. It didn't feel the same because you weren't there to watch. Do you know what I mean? Nothing feels the same without you. Jesus, xxxx, I'm just going crazy without you. And everything I do just reminds me of you.
Do you remember Carol, that single mom we met at the Holiday Inn lounge last year? Well, she dropped by last week with a pan of lasagna. She said she figured I wasn't eating right without a woman around. I didn't know what she meant till later, but that's not the real story. Anyway, we had a few glasses of wine and the next thing you know, we're banging away in our old bedroom. And this tart's a total monster in the sack. She's giving me everything, you know, like a real woman does when she's not hung up about her weight or her career and whether the kids can hear us. And all of a sudden, she spots that tilting mirror on your grandmother's old vanity. So she puts it on the floor and we straddle it, right, so we can watch ourselves. And it's totally hot, but it makes me sad, too. Cause I can't help thinking, "Why didn't manatee ever put the mirror on the floor? We've had this old vanity for what, 14 years, and we never used it as a sex toy."
Saturday, your sister drops by with my copy of the restraining order. I mean, Vicky's just a kid and all, but she's got a pretty good head on her shoulders and she's been a real friend to me during this painful time. She's given me lots of good advice about you and about women in general. She's pulling for us to get back together, xxxx, she really is. So we're doing Jell-O shots in a hot bubble bath and talking about happier times. Here's this teenage girl with the same DNA as you and all I can do is think of how much she looked like you
when you were 18. And that just about makes me cry.
And then it turns out Vicky's really into the whole **** thing, that gets me to thinking about how many times I pressured you about trying it and how that probably fueled some of the bitterness between us. But do you see how even then, when I'm thrusting inside your baby sister's cinnamon ring, all I can do is think of you? It's true, xxxx. In your heart you must know it. Don't you think we could start over? Just wipe out all the grievances away and start fresh? I think we can.
If you feel the same please, please, please let me know. Otherwise, can you buy me a new *******g e63. Love xxx
Last edited by FLYNAVY; Jul 25, 2007 at 04:36 PM.





