Curse My Car

There is absolutely nothing fictional about the trifles that I endured this morning. Basically, this is what happened: I had a job interview at 9:30 am, which is a lot to ask on a Saturday morning. I got up in plenty of time, since I am now re-accustomed to waking up at 6:15am. As I was driving along the highway, I noticed my car was making an especially loud clunkety clunk. I knew something was up with my car, and had full intentions of getting it checked out after my interview. Bad idea.

I am but 15 minutes away from my destination when my tire blows up. Okay, not so much blows up, but completely deflates. Shrinks up like an oversized black raisin. The driver in the red car next to me rolls down her window and notifies me, as my speed decreases dramatically. I think to myself “Oh Eff.” Because what can you really think when you have to be at an interview in fifteen minutes and you have a flat tire on a speedy and dangerous highway with no where safe to pull off? So I put on my hazard lights, pull over, and make at least six phone calls within three minutes. Thank you, Natalie, for actually answering. And to Liz, for calling me back.

Some time passes by, I pray that I do not get hit while resting precariously along the road, and I move over into the passenger seat, so that way if I do get hit, the impact won’t be as severe. I call Les Schwab, who tells me they are sending a guy out to help me. Yes, I am aware I should know how to change a flat tire. It is now on my top priority of things to master. While I am rooting around in my car, teary eyed, I sense a shadow over me. The Hookman! (J/K Liz and Danny). It is a police officer. I open up my door and get out. He asks me what happened. I think it is quite obvious. I point to my tire and sniffle. I give him my license, insurance, and registration. He assures me I’m not in trouble. I don’t point out that I’ve been in trouble for the past 25 minutes.

Les Schwab guy shows up. Police officer vows to stay with me until I am ready to go. Tire gets fixed. I am “That Car.” I watch everyone pass by me, looking to see what has happened, since I am sandwiched in between a police truck and a Les Schwab service vehicle, looking pathetic. Finally, my tire is ready. Les Schwab guy drives off. I attempt to start my car. It clicks at me. My battery has died due to having my hazard lights on for 45 minutes. I sheepishly get out of my car and wave at the police officer, who is still parked behind me. I explain the problem. Mr. I’ll-Stay-By-Your-Side turns into Mr. I-Have-Other-Places-To-Be. So do I. I pop my hood, and the officer comments that my battery is pretty old. He wants to call a tow truck, since he can’t jump my car.

I make about five more phone calls. Les Schwab guy is on his way back to help. He runs his power cords and jumps my car. I thank him, wave at Police Officer, and drive off. I cannot turn my car off for at least 45 minutes. So basically, this is the explanation as to why I showed up two hours late to my interview with raccoon eyes and smelling of burnt rubber.

During this whole morning, I am advised of several things: 1) Buy two new tires, because both of the back ones need to be replaced 2) Get a new battery, and 3) Re-schedule my interview. On my way home, I go to the ATM to get out twenty bucks, since I have all of $1.50 left. The ATM tells me that if I withdraw $20, I will have to use my overdraft protection. This means that I must have $19.99 or fewer dollars left in my checking account. I do not withdraw $20. I drive home, get on-line, and discover why I hardly have any money left in my checking account.

So basically, these are my car charges:
$40 to Les Schwab guy for road side service
$190.98 for two new back tires
$52 for a new battery
$20 because I need more gas.
Oh, and I got a $30 parking ticket on Thursday night.
Total: $332.98

I think I might start just using a bicycle. It is a very good thing I am getting paid in four days, or I might cry even more.