there are at least twothings i know of that make my inner-monster come out. and they both have one thing in common; my car.
i hate getting lost and any car problem, big or small. i think its because i really don’t pick up on any potential problems and little noises don’t bother me because i reason that if something was really wrong, i’d at least see smoke or the car wouldn’t start.
the first week i ever owned a car i ran over a piece of furniture on the interstate 20 miles from home. i heard a really loud explosion under my car, but kept on going. in reality i had blown out a tire and was completely oblivious. needless to say my parents thought i was out of my mind when i got home and explained myself. i somehow reasoned that because my car kept moving nothing bad must have happened. 20 miles on a blown out tire… nice.
one time when i lived in little rock i drove for over 2 hours looking for the house i was staying at, all within about a 5 to 10 mile radius. it was late and i was too stubborn to call my host family. i literally burned half a tank of gas looking for that house.
and then, today.
i tend to run my car until the gas light comes on. my dad taught me to fill my tank up at the halfway point, but i think this is lame and never really followed his advice. however, i’ve gotten to where i let my gas light remain on as long as i think possible before filling up. today my s-60 decided i was the lame one. i got in my car and it wouldn’t start. i quickly realized i had run out of gas for the first time ever. awesome.
i was immediately angry at the situation. see, i like to put on this feminist facade but in reality, i think guys should know how to fix any car problem and i shouldn’t be bothered to ever change a tire or the oil or do anything remotely related. so i stomped my way to the gas station down the street to buy a gas can and gas. the instructions on the gas can read like a foreign language to me so i grabbed the nearest guy [because they know everything about cars, right?] and had him help me put it together. i specifically asked if i had to fill it up and he said i didn’t.
i walked home [it was raining at this point] and as i poured the gas into the tank i realized the guy hadn’t screwed the cap on very well and i’d venture to guess 1/3 of the gas ended up on me instead of in my car. whatever, i was just happy to finally be on my way.
not only was i now highly flammable, but my car still wouldn’t start.
safe to say i was livid at this point and cursed my car profusely. i mean, if i didn’t have to fill the can up, why the heck wasn’t half a gallon enough? my friend staying with me this week was able to witness the tantrum, helpless because her car wasn’t there. with my arms folded, i stubbornly refused to walk back to the gas station. [i’m so mature, i know.] luckily she was getting picked up and i got a ride to and from the gas station. this time when i filled it up i put the cap on correctly somehow and after the 90 minute ordeal i finally was able to leave my apartment.
to round the weekend out, i was peed on when babysitting and also sat in melted chocolate. basically i should be avoided until whatever this is blows over.
i am so glad i can laugh at myself. 🙂