I'm outta here!

I am leaving tomorrow for Girls' Camp. I am wicked excited! I love having a reason to wear ridiculous clothing, sing ridiculous songs, and eat ridiculously good food. I hope that the trip up there is not as, uh.... eventful... as a couple of years ago.
Here, I'll set the stage: Our family has always had a habit of having at least one, if not two, cars that are- well, pieces of poo on wheels. Funny you should mention poo, I have a story for you about our Blue Poo. (We name all our cars. Right now, our little black PT Cruiser is named Giuseppe. You know, because it looks like an Italian gangster car from the 30's) Blue Poo is the blue caravan we had two years ago. When we bought it, Kaitlin was a baby, so I was blinded by the built-in car seats. Note: Built in does not equal safe. This car had been in our possession for about 1 1/2 years when I decided to take it to Girls' Camp. The faulty driver side door and funny noises made while driving should have been a premonition. In the parking lot where everyone met before the trek to camp, I left a puddle of antifreeze. At the time, I thought someone had spilt Gatorade (I can only fill up a gas tank and check the oil- don't ask any more of me, please.) Off I go with an unsuspecting, cell phone-less traveler. We're doing well, singing to Vanilla Ice and eating sunflower seeds, when there's a traffic jam. Going up hill. In the extreme heat. In my piece of blue poo. I seriously thought the car was going to die on the way up that hill. It did. But, I was able to start it again and crest the hill. Smooth sailing...for 30 feet! Then car dies again as we're coasting down the hill. Car dies= no power brakes= Stephanie tries to stop= almost hit car ahead of us= put car in park= serious whiplash as car jerks to a stop. Now, my poor passenger is regretting being bribed into my car by early 90's rap. That's ok! we'll call for help! Wait a second... passenger has no cell phone... I have no cell phone... fantastic. You know what, that's alright. We came in a group, surely people will recognize us and stop to help. Surely, people did not. They recognized us but thought we were taking a break in the middle of a highway in the scorching heat. So, what's a girl to do? Play charades with the people passing our pathetic selves. I started frantically gesturing a person using a cell phone to each car that passed by. Mostly people laughed, but I did finally get a sweet man to pull over and let us use his phone. I called my mother-in-law. She helped me panic a little more, but other than that, she had no way of helping, she was still back at home. Hmmm.... as I'm thinking, a police officer pulls up and adjusts his waistband (they always do that in the movies, first time seeing it for real- had to let you know)
He said in a very mountain man accent, "Whut chu goteere is uh vapur lock prob'em"
"Pardon?"
"Try'n start the kerr in 'bout 'alf hour"
although the man was hard to understand (even more so in writing) I listened to his advice. He was right! The car started! We made it to camp- praying the whole way that we'd be safe. We did make it safe, but as soon as we got into camp, the door fell off.