Bang.  Bangety, bump, bump, rattle, rattle, rattle, nothing.  NOTHING. Bump.  de bu-bu-bubbedy-bu-bump.  Oh, lord.   I could feel it through the floorboards, and it was worse every time I turned the steering wheel. Was I about to make spectacular "film-at-eleven" news trying to get home? The automotive department of the retail chain for which hubby works was still open, and luckily, on my way home.   "How can I help you?" asked long-haired Skinny Joe, the guy at the counter. "I'm afraid of my car," I told him.  "I think it's possessed." "Drive it in," he said, "it's been a slow night." Suddenly I'm not sure what to be more afraid of: the demon that needs to be exorcised from my front end or bored mechanics who quite possibly need to make a boat payment, who can smell my fear AND most recent paycheck. ("Oh damn," I fume to myself, "and the direct deposit went in just this morning!") Sigh.  I have a love/hate relationship with this car.  I love it when it works but I hate the repair costs.  Everything has a $1,000 price tag.  Suspension.  Brakes.  Oil change (because they found $960 worth of other stuff that was a safety hazard to ignore).  I'm afraid to complain about the busted cup holder.  It's gotten to where I'm like some guys going to the doctor and won't go to the mechanic because I know it's going to lose me a grand.   It turns out that this one isn't going to be cheap either.  Broken left front spring, just lucky it didn't blow the tire in the 5 miles from school to the shop... so replace springs, mounts and struts.  Not driveable until fixed, call hubby and leave the car.  I suppose I should ask them why the "check engine" light has been on for the last month.  As much as I believe in higher education I really don't want to be the one who sends their kids to college this month. Wouldn't you know they had just done a $300 repair on hubby's jalopy earlier TODAY (a fuel leak) - I guess we were lucky they didn't need to keep HIS car overnight, or I would have had to walk four miles home.  Let's see, what's the calorie burn at 20ºF after dark, factoring in heart attacks on all the unlit streets I'd have to travel...  Oh well.  Ask me tomorrow what it cost.  Right now I don't want to think about it.  Shudder.  Back to proofreading report card comments.  Almost done.  Hope that light at the end of the tunnel isn't a train.