My Car

So it’s a little after 10 am and I’m sitting at Panera Bread on Bee Caves waiting for (my hero) Ross to come give my car a jumpstart. The internet wasn’t working in my apartment when I had to start work* this morning, so I packed up my things and headed out to Panera to take advantage of their free Wi-Fi. I typically have to do this three or four times a month because the internet at the Block is really crappy. The thing is, though, that when you go somewhere to use “free” Wi-Fi, they expect you to BUY something and I’d already eaten breakfast so I was just gonna sit in my car and listen to some music while working. That was a dumb idea because of course I drained the battery and now it won’t start. It isn’t even making that “trying to start” noise. There is just the sound of my turning key and my broken heart. Wait. Ross is on the phone… needs help with directions.
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Ok. So scratch all that. Ross was on his way, so I went out to my car to hold a parking spot open next to it so he could pull in to jump it. Being the optimist** that I am, I tried to start it again AND IT WORKED. Soooo sorry for wasting your time, Ross. (I stole you some equal packets and perhaps I’ll buy you a drink at Serrano’s later for your troubles.)

But, that’s my fickle car for you. I think he (she?... what is the gender of a car?) is acting out because I’ve been kind of a bitch to him lately. This is the first semester I’ve had my car up in Austin and we’ve already been through a lot together.

Turns out I am a terrible driver. I just never knew it because I was surrounded by so many other terrible drivers (ex. My sister, who drives like she is the only one on the road; Sandra, who still asks me which way to go on I-10 to get to Austin; Jacob, who just scares the shit out of me). I might have been okay by comparison, but driving in Katy is a WHOLE different deal than driving in Austin. So, I think my car’s gotten a little pissed at me.

First, I make my car work really hard to get into a parking space. The first time I drove up to Austin, it only took me about five minutes to find a parking spot. It took me 30 minutes to fit into said parking spot. I had NO IDEA what to do! I’d never learned how! So I had to scooch in little, then get out of the car, assess my progress, and repeat. I think both Erica and Sydni can attest to just how terrible my parking was in those first few days. That first night, my car was really mad at me. It only took me a fourth of a tank of gas to make it from Houston to Austin. It took me a fourth of a tank of gas to park.

Second, my car’s a little out of shape. My car is made of plastic (nice experiment, Saturn. Thanks for that!). It’s light as a feather, flimsy as a used condom. (too far?) It does NOT like the potholes in West Campus, but I feel little sympathy for its wants and needs. I fly over those potholes with enthusiasm, determined not to be late to practice (again). As such, my car wheezes and clunks its way down the road. Poor baby. Not only that, but it is covered with three months worth of bird poop and stale beer as a result of being parked on the street in front of a frat house.

Third, my car is probably embarrassed. Since I’ve gotten my car, it’s never been stopped a cop or gotten in any (real) accidents. I set the cruise control at 5-7 mph over the speed limit so that it doesn’t get caught speeding and never forgot to slow down to 55 when I go through that horrible speed trap in Ellinger. I’d like to think my car is pretty proud of itself. Or was. Until this week.

I think it was Saturday morning when Kelsey and I were driving to practice and the light went red a little faster than I thought it would. And then there was a bright flash of light… so I may or may not get a red light ticket in the coming weeks. But the REAL embarrassment for my car was when he was slapped with a $300 ticket for “Blocking Disabled Access” (overlapping a sidewalk ramp) on Monday. THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS. To put that into perspective, blocking a fire hydrant is a $70 ticket. The Americans With Disabilities Act is a powerful piece of legislation, my friends. Don’t mess with it. (Although, I’m not sure who will be having the last laugh when the firemen can’t put out the fire in the handicapped person’s house because someone decided to park by the fire hydrant for a lesser fine… but whatever.)

Given all this, I can’t say I blame my car for teaching me a little lesson and refusing to start this morning. I’d be pissed, too!

So this is an open letter to you, car. From now on, I promise to treat you better. I’m going to take you to get an oil change and maybe even check your tires and axels. I’ll stop running you over curbs and stop making fun of your murky grey plastic exterior. Maybe I’ll even go crazy and wash and vacuum you. Who knows?

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*I work for this company called Bazaarvoice. I read product reviews online. I work from home. Or the parking lots of Panera Breads.
** And by “optimist” I mean “really desperate for SOMETHING to work out the right way”