Ok, I have another one that is much funnier.
A couple years ago my car pooped out on me, and while it was being repaired, my dad lent me his Mercedes.
See where we're going with this?
This car was his *baby*. It was a 1982 blue station wagon. He'd bought it for $600 and spent a year restoring it. Coolest car, ever.
So, one day DH was riding with me out to my research sites (biology field project). We were zooming down the highway, sunroof open, having a great afternoon.
I got a bit chilly, so I asked DH to close the sunroof please.
I was not aware that the sunroof was the one thing that had not yet been restored. Unbeknownst to me, the tracks on it were completely rotten through.
Josh tried to close it. The wind grabbed hold of it and *FOOOOM!* sheared the whole thing clean off the #$%& car.
This unleashed a tornado of dead bugs and sharp little pine straw bits into the car.
So I'm zooming down the highway at 60 or so, can't really see, covered in bug carcasses, freaking out, with DH yelling for me to PULL OVER NOW, and the poor sunroof going *dinky dinky rolly* down the highway behind us.
We stopped. He found it in the median, but not before it had been run over.
I returned my dad's Mercedes to him with a Duct-taped-on sunroof.
Dad wouldn't speak to me for over a week.
Unlikely, I know, but I even have evidence:
That is NOT a happy man there.