And now that the minivan might have some real bad problem with it, I am starting to regret my plan on driving (my car) down to the Mall Of America after work (I am filling in for someone today) for fear that something bad is going to happen to it while I'm driving.  Shit, man, I was scared the car would do something to me when driving home after working the fight last night.  It didn't, of course; it shouldn't because it was serviced a couple weeks ago.  But the trauma of a car that betrays you while you're trapped in it never leaves you, does it?

By the way, despite my fear, I'm driving down to the Megamall.  I'm not saying fuck fear.  I'm totally fearful.  I just can't let the thought of my car failing me as I drive it bully me into not doing something I want to do.  That's not taking the attitude of "fuck fear."  It's ... something else, I don't know what.