Ms. Fixit

Big Sis K and Little Sis Stew left me here in the snow belt.
Alone.
With BSK's crap-mobile uh van parked in my driveway.
While they go to the tropics to snorkel and play footsie in the sand and visit my brother.
Where they will talk trash about me.
Because when you are laying about in the sand complaining about the heat and the humidity and how the sun's a little too bright for your liking and your beloved family member is unable to eavesdrop you just naturally think of that particular family member.
right?
K. asked me to move the van around the driveway every day so the brakes wouldn't seize up or freeze or whatever the heck malingering tempramental brakes do when they aren't being coddled and loved.
Well I really MEANT to go out and move it. But I'm easily distracted.
I didn't bother to move the van for a several many couple of days.
The brakes froze.
Solid.
I emailed the knowlegable folks at CarTalk's Chat Forum.
"Take the wheels off and bleed the brake lines"
huh ?
"get under the car and....." Didn't even finish reading that one. I don't do "get under the car."
"take your torque wrench and..." Yeah, let me just root around under the kitchen sink for that torque wrench. It's around here somewhere...
"Spray the brakes with Brakleen."
"Whatever you do, don't spray the brakes with Brakleen."
I went to the Highest Authority of Brakedom. The owner of the crapmobile van.

"Uh, hi, K., your brakes suck."
"Oh, yeah, I know. Just gun the gas and they'll break loose. You'll hear a big old CLUNK but that's OK. Go ahead, gun it."
I gunned it. Clunk. The van goes back and forth. Problem solved.
Mr Sweetie: "Uh, honey? The back wheels aren't moving. You're sliding on that big patch of ice."
Problem not solved. Big patches of rubber on the driveway.
shit crap.
My BIL calls. He is crying laughing.
"Hey, Stew called and asked me to come over and move the van because she didn't think you knew how to drive an automatic."

It's almost true. I drive standard shift. Put me in an automatic and I will always hit the brake and the gas simultaneously thinking that the brake is the clutch because that's how ya shift gears, ya know. but not in an automatic.
Long discussion about the nerve of those two leaving us behind to do the dirty work while they're frolicking in the sand.
Stew owes Tim big favors for coming down here , getting under the van in three feet of snow and fixing the brakes while I singlehandedly hold the van up with my girly biceps.
Hah.
not really. But that's his story.
The van decided to get over its temper fit and moved. All four wheels this time. With me driving.
Problem solved.
I better get a big big souvenier out of this.