I don't really want to get into it. Partly because I'm still trying to process it, partly because I'm afraid of what's going to happen tomorrow morning.
The not starting -- I push the brake pedal and the ignition button, but it just clicks -- began when I stopped off at downtown to get my shoes shined. It started the second time. It later happened when I stopped at the Black Hart assuming I would watch a game there. But I didn't, and I went back to my car and it wouldn't start three, four times. (It was off three, four minutes max.) But the worst time was when I came home from Buffalo Wild Wings and decided to stop off at the gas station because those Saudi refineries got bombed and I saw some stations jack up their prices 20 cents. I found a spot that hadn't yet jacked up their prices, but when I tried to start the car (and I was afraid of this), it wouldn't start. And I kept going at it for five minutes, but it wouldn't fucking start.
I finally had to get my parents to help me in case the battery was the issue. But when I went inside the gas station, Father started the car. So when I bring the car into the dealership on Thursday, I'll tell them that, for some reason, the car had trouble re-starting after being off for a short period of time.
Things spiral out of control in situations like this. I was seeing if a fuse was the problem, and in doing so I dropped one inside the car and couldn't find it. I had to spend a good hour buying one, and so I missed the first half-hour of the series finale of So You Think You Can Dance (fantastic season with great routines, I just wish it were live all season). Also, before I went about my day (shoe shining, seeing the women's golf team play in town, then soccer), Mother asked me to come home early so she could walk. Well, them helping me with the car delayed dinner, and so I think Mother decided she couldn't go because it was too late. That makes me feel guilty, especially because I was unable to show Father that the car wasn't starting.
But I know that's what is going to happen -- if not tomorrow morning, then some time before Thursday. And I'm doubly afraid that I'll bring the car into the dealership and I'll spend $160 and they'll determine that nothing's wrong. Things are already fucked up, though. For the first time in its life, I'm afraid of using my car. It's barely been four years and I'm already afraid of using my car.
The not starting -- I push the brake pedal and the ignition button, but it just clicks -- began when I stopped off at downtown to get my shoes shined. It started the second time. It later happened when I stopped at the Black Hart assuming I would watch a game there. But I didn't, and I went back to my car and it wouldn't start three, four times. (It was off three, four minutes max.) But the worst time was when I came home from Buffalo Wild Wings and decided to stop off at the gas station because those Saudi refineries got bombed and I saw some stations jack up their prices 20 cents. I found a spot that hadn't yet jacked up their prices, but when I tried to start the car (and I was afraid of this), it wouldn't start. And I kept going at it for five minutes, but it wouldn't fucking start.
I finally had to get my parents to help me in case the battery was the issue. But when I went inside the gas station, Father started the car. So when I bring the car into the dealership on Thursday, I'll tell them that, for some reason, the car had trouble re-starting after being off for a short period of time.
Things spiral out of control in situations like this. I was seeing if a fuse was the problem, and in doing so I dropped one inside the car and couldn't find it. I had to spend a good hour buying one, and so I missed the first half-hour of the series finale of So You Think You Can Dance (fantastic season with great routines, I just wish it were live all season). Also, before I went about my day (shoe shining, seeing the women's golf team play in town, then soccer), Mother asked me to come home early so she could walk. Well, them helping me with the car delayed dinner, and so I think Mother decided she couldn't go because it was too late. That makes me feel guilty, especially because I was unable to show Father that the car wasn't starting.
But I know that's what is going to happen -- if not tomorrow morning, then some time before Thursday. And I'm doubly afraid that I'll bring the car into the dealership and I'll spend $160 and they'll determine that nothing's wrong. Things are already fucked up, though. For the first time in its life, I'm afraid of using my car. It's barely been four years and I'm already afraid of using my car.
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