Saturday, May 2, 2009

When Cars Get Sick: a.k.a. The Swine Flu Threatens Mary Jane


Dreary morning. Drove to work as happy as expected for a Friday. Pulled into the lot. Took a sip of coffee. Put Mary Jane, my VW Jetta, in park, turned the key and pulled it out....I said, I pulled it out.

It was stuck.

Oh, no. This can't be happening. Maybe I just did it wrong. Maybe I turned it off too far . . .

Tug, tug. Pull, pull. Nothing.

Okay, don't panic. Remain calm. Remain calm...

Tug, tug. Jiggle, Jiggle.
UGH! Does this even happen? What kind of sickness is this? Okay, try again.

Turn the car on. Turn back off. Immovable.
What is it? The starter? How much are starters? One thousand? Two thousand? No, it can't be the starter. It's this metal key-insert thing. It's got a death grip on my key! It HAS to be the insert thing. I don't have that kind of money! Argh....

Jiggle, jiggle. Pull harder. Pull softer.

YOU STUPID, EVIL KRAUT OF AN AUTOMOBILE! YOU NEVER WORK! NEVER!! HOW MUCH MONEY HAVE I THROWN AT YOUR UNGRATEFUL FRAME? TOO MUCH! YOUR PATHETIC EXISTENCE ISN'T WORTH MY HAPPINESS. THIS IS IT. MARY JANE, WE'RE DONE....can I leave the key in the ignition? Would someone mess with it?

Glance at my purse on the passenger seat.

Tad. Should I call him? Would he know what to do? No, I can do this. I'm smarter than my car.

Jiggle, jiggle.
Not smart enough. Okay, what's different? What did I do this morning that caused this?

Thinking.
The papers on the hand brake? Would they cause...THE COFFEE! The coffee...

I removed the thermos from where it was wedged between the center dash that holds the radio and the shifter. The shifter clicked into place. The keys came out as usual.

Sit back. Exhale. Smile.

Oh, Mary Jane, my German princess....I knew you'd come through. I had your back the whole time.

3 comments:

  1. phew...i was paralyzed with fear there for a minute
    shame on you, mary jane

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  2. Ohmygosh..I did almost the same thing! Except I DID call my roommate to ask for advice. She figured out the solution for me..but until then, I simultaneously panicked AND felt stupid.

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  3. Ha. Oh Manders! That's classic. Remember when Fitzy blew his tire and none of us could change it. Enter cursing cops and a 50 mile an hour speed limit on the way home.

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