Wheels on fire

I am absolutely in love with the song “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley. I’d provide you with a copy of it, but I’m too lazy to upload anything right now. At any rate, you can find the song/video on Launch as well as iTunes and any of your friendly neighborhood p2p programs. Check it out, promise you won’t be sorry.

Driving fifty-five miles each way to and from work every day, I see a lot of shit. One thing I never fail to notice is the sheer volume of people who break down either on the side of the road or SMACK DAB in the middle of the freeway. I laugh heartily at those sad assholes who can’t keep their cars in good enough condition to keep them running like a top. I mean, seriously, when your car is the one thing you absolutely must depend on to get your paycheck, why would you neglect it enough to where it’s overheating or blowing out bald tires? Again…sad assholes who can’t seem to keep their cars from breaking down.

Yesterday, I became one of those sad assholes.

When I got to my car in the parking lot after work, it was dead as a doornail. “Crap!” I shouted, thinking that I’d left my headlights on or one of the doors ajar. Annoyed and embarrassed, I made my way back into the building to rustle up someone with a vehicle and jumper cables. Former Boss J came to my rescue and got me up and going in no time. My car ran a tad rough, but I was confident that the drive home would charge the battery up right and good. I sped off to the onramp and mingled with the other cars already on the road, sliding over to the fast lane with surprising ease.

Then it all went to seed.

Chugging along not half a mile from work, my radio and gauges suddenly went dead. I cursed under my breath and banged my fist on the dashboard, not even aware that my engine wasn’t really running either. The gauges came back and the car shook and bounced forward. Shit. I was in the fast lane with two lanes between me and right-hand shoulder and a carpool lane between me and the center divide. As luck would have it, the carpool lane was empty at that moment, just long enough for me to crank my steering wheel hard to the left and wheeze my way to the center shoulder. The car gave one last sputter and died completely as I came to a halt mere centimeters on the other side of the thick yellow line.

Cars whizzed past me and shook my poor baby in their wake as I dialed up Triple A on my cell phone. I had to explain to the girl three times that I was stuck on the center divide…CENTER DIVIDE. She kept repeating “You’re at the on-ramp for Crow Canyon?” “Yes, but I’m on the CENTER DIVIDE…not the on-ramp.” Nice girl, but a little strange. The tow company had to call me and confirm my position anyway. I sat angrily in my car with the driver’s door open a tiny crack to let in fresh air. No power = no windows. Already I knew what the problem was. The alternator. The symptoms were all there. Mentally I tried to calculate what it would cost me to get towed home (55 miles!) and then have the damn thing repaired. Last time I had anything towed was in 1996, and the cost of towing then was $5 a mile. I could only imagine what it was now.

When the tow truck arrived, the driver informed me that the charge was TEN BUCKS A MILE. That means I would have to shit out five hundred dollars to get my baby home. I think I pooped a little when he gave me the price. Then he did something incredibly nice and profoundly generous. He said there was an auto shop nearby that specialized in Hondas and he could get me there and get me a great deal on the cost. He also said he could take me to Budget Rent-a-Car and get me a loaner for twenty bucks out the door. Had we not been in the middle of the freeway during rush hour traffic, I would have dropped and given him two blowjobs in a row.

In the end, he got me hooked up with a 4-door Ford Focus and excellent service at the auto shop. I tooled home, safe in the knowledge that my car would be well-looked after. When the mechanic called this morning, I dreaded answering the phone. Overnight I’d managed to talk myself into all kinds of horribly expensive scenarios, any one of which would have sent me into convulsive fits had they come true. But the news was great: the replacement battery I’d bought from Kragen two years ago had basically shorted out and drained the entire system, alternator included. All I needed was a new battery and I was ready to go! WOO HOO!

Three hours and $160 bucks later (rental included), my baby was back in my arms again. I could have cried, I was so happy. And I’m damn lucky that it was only a battery. Now, I take great care of my car. After nine long, hard years of service, she’s no longer the prettiest girl on the block, nor is she the fastest or fanciest, but she’s a good egg and hell! She’s only got 205k miles on her…there’s still many a fest to drive to yet! Needless to say, I’ve learned my lesson about buying after-market parts and I’m taking my baby in for a tune-up (which I’d planned to do in June anyway) next week during the fair as well as four new tires. After the trauma of breaking down the highway and getting flooded in December, she deserves a little pampering. When it’s all done, I’m dropping her off to be washed, waxed, detailed, and massaged to a fine glossy finish. And a spritz of new car scent.

I’m no longer a sad asshole, and this experience should humble me a bit when it comes to the misfortune of others. On the way home tonight, some poor sap was broken down in almost the exact spot I was yesterday. Traffic slowed down to rubberneck, and as I cruised by, I thought “You silly ass, why can’t you keep your shit running?”

I will never learn…