My Story of the Mercedes...

I've always wanted a Mercedes and about 2.5 yrs ago, I got mine. Baby blue, sleek, vintage, used, worn, warm, strong & bold. A 1973 280se following a rather nasty car accident where an idiot college student, paired with an inconsiderate driver-- me in the middle-- led my Jetta to the junk yard. Luckily I walked away unharmed, but if you've read this far you know my little black Jetta, meant for ex-girlfriends, and once my mom, didn't make it out in quite the same condition.

Flash forward 6 months when my beautiful little blue beast is giving me car trouble.....

*At this point blue bell has seen the shop across the street from my work too many times to count. I swear the mechanic is a huge crook. My bank account is counting, however, backwards while I dig myself out of vintage hole after vintage hole.*

I have a filming for a work client in Newport Beach, with Inside Edition no less. As I gear up to race down PCH the day before the 4th of July I realize it's too close of a call to drive my buggy. If something goes wrong and I'm not able to show up -- both my bosses are out of town -- I'm screwed. Sooooo, I opt for the company car.... A 2012 350E coupe.

As I drive down PCH I'm feeling rather posh. A 26 year old PR executive in a beautiful car, driving along the ocean on a coast I love and know.

*Only if you're familiar with PCH in Southern California will you know what the fuck I'm referring to next, but either way I'm going to try to paint a vivid picture.* 

As I cross main street and sift through the shuffle that is 2 lanes becoming 3, then 2, then 3 again after Beach blvd. I've been driving on the faster side to get past cars but once the ride opens again and I look at my clock I realize I can relax and cruise the rest of the way.  Now I'm at the back of the pack and just miss the Magnolia light.

Stopped at a red I'm in the middle lane- 2 to my left, one only turning, 1 to my right. I'm looking in my rear view mirror and I see the next pack coming towards. I look at the dash and SLAM!

My body convulses forward, my legs brace the impact. My foot on the brake, glass flying around me, my eyes closed. I open them to find my car & I across a 4 lane intersection, basically on the curb. Stunned, I try to get out of the car. Heart racing, mind blank.

A lifeguard comes running from the beach and yells for me to stay in the car. I can feel the blood dripping from my forehead and the pain radiating in my torso. I look to the back right and see gasoline flooding from the vehicle. At that point I came to, fuck you douche lifeguard.... I'm getting the fuck out of this possible bomb!

The rest is as imagined. Cops, paramedics, nothing severe getting filed even though a suburban hit me  going 60 mph and demolished the Mercedes. The clean up crew throws sand on the gas and the ambulance transports the driver & passenger of the other car to the hospital. **they left me on the side of the road to bawl and have a co-worker race from Long Beach to retrieve me. Wonderful group are the HBPD, in case you were wondering.

Fast forward to a year ago....

The company car had been replaced but my ol' vintage baby had been on the fritz again. After pouring nearly 3k into it I went to a friends mechanic who tuned her up for $150 and she still works to this day- in fact, the 8k (total money spent on buying her and fixing her) vintage blue bell is still sitting in my moms driveway.

*Later last year I bought a new Audi for a more reliable ride.*

Once more, fast forward to last weekend.....

I arrived at my hair dresser's, who quickly exclaimed that he's dying to buy blue bell. As much as I love her, he's welcome to her. As he was coloring me I got an impromptu call from my boss asking if I took the company car. At this point the notion seems ridiculous. I have 10 cars in my arsenal- boyfriend, mom, grandparents 3, my moms BF 3 & my car + blue bell. The last thing I need to borrow is another car.

*We had a new assistant start at the business a month ago on the 18th.  A sweet 22 yr old boy from Wisconsin always carrying a Louie Vuitton bag and decked out in True Religion jeans. Once I had to tell him he couldn't use the car for errands, and once our tenants downstairs said he was photographing the company Mercedes.*

I quickly ask if he might have it and then text him. No reply. Police report filed, no word- from either assistant or police. Monday rolls around and our assistant doesn't show, no call, no text. Tuesday & Wednesday fly by but at this point we know what happened.

This is my experience with Mercedes. Maybe I'm cursed because I wanted one so badly for so long and then turned my back on blue bell. Or maybe you can never know someone. Or maybe everything happens for a reason. Or maybe blue bell is perfectly happy in my driveway with a potential new owner on the way and the suburban driver, crook mechanic & new assistant are all just mega assholes!

I will never know. But I do know one thing. I will never, ever, ever buy or drive another Mercedes. 

**THOUGHT: I should probably stop applying for KTLA's Mercedes giveaway**