Again with the again?
My jeep is my baby. Really. If I had to choose between my cat and my car…
The cat would maybe survive.
Maybe.
But it would be a really close call.
Exhibit 34:
Me: “Sam, there are two things I love most in this world. My cat, and my car.”
Him: “You know you’re eventually going to have to let one of them go.”
Me: “Then it will be my cat. Because I am damn straight determined to make that jeep survive another 14 years.”
Him: “That’s kind of fucked up.”
It isn’t that fucked up. If my cat dies, there really isn’t anything I can do about it.
If my car dies, I have five mechanics on my speed dial.
That isn’t to say I don’t love my cat as much as a hunk of metal. But I’ve had a lot of cats- I’ve only had one car.
Sam and I were having one of our infamous “off” nights. We forgot to leave our walls at home, and those nights never end well. He’s defensive, I’m defensive because he’s defensive. We’re both out with mutual different friends, and our friends just stand and look at each other like they’re caught between an earthquake and a firestorm.
Horoscope metaphors.
Appreciate.
Sam took one of our friends home, while I went to sober up. By the time I headed for the car, an hour later…
Dead.
Try again.
Still dead.
Try seven more times.
More dead.
I’ve been preparing for this to happen for the last three weeks, ever since it started stalling randomly while I was driving.
It’s an automatic.
They don’t stall.
And I’d just spent $200 last week on a new battery.
I texted Sam, and started walking home.In heels. Through hooker territory.
Click, click, click.
It was like being a walking target at three in the morning.
I hate being a walking target, more than anything.
Sam was already home, safe and drunk, and now worrying about me.
I told him to stay put, though his offer of rescuing me was precious.
Thank goodness the car died where it did. It picked my favorite neighborhood, in a section where I didn’t have to worry about street sweeping in the morning.
It was a very peaceful place to go, surrounded by trees and other cars and the occasional nice pedestrian.
The next morning, I walked back over (in sneakers) and had it towed down to my mom’s.
So now my mom has my car AND my cat, and I have… hmm.
My iPod.
It’s the small things in life, really.
Like the tow truck driver being smokin’ hot, and the fact that I have a stellar music collection.
