I hate my car

I hate my car. There I said it. What was once a love story has quickly fizzled into a bitter, angry, marriage that neither of us have the guts to break off. My car, an 1982 Volkswagen Rabbit fittingly named Adolf, has a number of problems. His fan belt squeaks so much that I can hear it over the dull roar that is his engine. His leather seats that heat up in the Summer to just under boiling, apparently freeze during the winter. My butt is never happy in this car.

The thing that sent me over the tipping point, however, happened today as I was driving back from the mall. It is a Friday. The roads around the mall are terrible on Friday. I pull up to a stoplight and put the car in neutral and wait for the light to turn. Then it happens. The car dies. Thats it. No warning, no bangs, no nothing. Just silence. I frantically try to turn the engine over. Nothing. The light turns green. Cars move. Adolf does not. Cars begin honking. I begin pleading with Adolf as if that will help the situation.

"No, no, NO!!! Please!!!! PLEEEEEASE! Oh crap, crap. God, help!"

I stick out my arm and wave people around. They start going. I hop out of my car and begin pushing it to the side of the road. I was in the left turning lane. I wanted to get my car across the right turning lane, over a curb, across some grass, across another curb, a parking barrier and into a Chik Filet restaurant.

There was a guy about my age sitting in his car watching this unfold. When I stepped out of the car he called out to me.

"That was the craziest thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"Haaa, thanks."

"Does that happen alot?"

"Nah, first time."

"Sh!t, man...You want a cigarette?"

"No thanks. I'm good."

"Alright, well have a good one."

He then drove off in a fully functioning car.