Why Kristin and Fletcher were right.
"Hey. I've got the Nissan."
"Oh. Carie?"
"That's me."
"Okay... 91' Nissan, hitch installed. Did you want wiring and a ball?"
"Just the ball is fine. I'm not planning on using it much."
"Alright. Just need the keys. You're going to be at the 652..."
"Well, no. I'll have to wait for it."
"Okay. We'll get on it."
"Thank you, Sir."
Fifteen minutes pass, and the kind gentleman stolls back into the office.
"Carie, that's not a 91. It's a 90. The hitch you ordered isn't going to fit, it's not the same kind of frame."
"Oh, Jesus. I'm supposed to pick up the trailer at noon."
Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck. I'm going to have to sell my car, and I'm going to be stuck in Montana for the rest of my life. Goddamnit. Shit.
"Let me see if Jim's got any ideas."
"Alright."
30 seconds.
"Well. Let's see... a 34CT8. Yep. Got it in stock. Looks like we lucked out."
"Oh THANK GOD! I'm going to smoke now, I had a major panic attack there."
And an hour and a half later, I now own a fully functional towing machine.
I don't think I ever fully believed in a higher power until today. And the day isn't even half over.
I'm praying really, really hard.