My Car Likes Being Driven Around, Li-tow-rally

o hai everyone.

i’m here. i’ve been here all day, don’t lookit me like that! where have you been?

life continues to befundle me. that’s a new word. befuddle means confuse. fun means diversion.

befundle means confuse with amusement, or perhaps bemuse with funfusion.

anyway, my car-ma continues to bite the huge one.

my car, the very same car i lost (nay, misplaced) for 4 hours on saturday, broke down yesterday.

went on strike. whatever. same deal. on the first actually cold day of the year, it straight up announced “movement? overrated!”

i was in the fastest lane on the parkway, and suddenly accelerating merely became a figure of speech.

yello, car? watchoo doin’?

screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-cha! gweeeeeeeee-cha rarararararruhruhruhruh squeeeeeee heeheheeee teeheehehe hahahahoo *silence*

that’s cute, car. no but seriously. not funny. are you in neutral? because i bet that’s what’s going on. i accidentally put you in neutral. hahah oh ho you’re right let’s laugh! good one! let’s just see here…oh wait, car?

squeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr….yes?

you’re not in neutral. you’re in drive.

i know.

but you’re not going. you are slowing!

sorry?

i saaaaaaid you’re not going and there is a car approaching behind you and me at breakneck speed.

rururururuhruhruh–no i was apologizing. but it’s true, you’re right, i’m not going.

car!

yes?

what do i do?

i suggest you pull over.

to this scenic viewpoint?

why yes, i would enjoy a lookit the sunset over the river, thanks.

(several slightly disoriented phonecalls in the darkness later)

enter: el tow truck
driven by: the most perfect stereotype of a tow truck driver that i could have imagined — flat top hair cut, burly, all-american, not a big talker, (according to the rules of stereotypecasting) looks like he probably enjoy football, beer and meat, ideally all together…he also looked like he knew a lot about cars (teehahahah)

he doesn’t say much. gets right down to the business of towing. i ask lots of questions because by this point i’m tired, disheartened, lonely, and i just want the tow truck driver to be my friend.


el towtruckus magnificus in all its flashingy lighty glory
photo courtesy of Flickr and Lottery Monkey

i learned pretty quickly the tow truck driver had no interest in being my friend or even acquaintance, and was much more interested in getting to know my car than me.

then the mundane horror started. we had to drive to the shop to drop off the car.

i get in the tow truck bracing myself for the awkwardness i knew would inevitably ensue. half an hour (at the least) of material with which to converse with a tow truck driver?! i was thinking, i barely have 30 seconds! i thought maybe i should do some crowdwork but i didn’t know what to ask him.

weather? never!
sports? i’d incriminate myself.
car talk? hahahaha. good one.
WHAT ELSE DO PEOPLE TALK ABOUT?!

(i was even considering fun facts about the beef industry but i don’t think i could survive being thrown from a moving vehicle)

his radio is super-ironically playing “american man” followed by generic country crooning followed by “play that funky music, white boy.”

i try and ask some questions. make some smallest talk but he’s not biting. you can hear crickets praying. so finally i try looking out the window pensively.

he finally offers up, “so were you on your way home?”

“no actually…” i offer greedily.

but his abrupt “oh” cuts off any condiments with which i could have flavored my answer.

i start beaming him extreme please like me requests like a fanciful teenager trying to express a shoutout to Mr. Daly on TRL via mind control, but just then things turned right ugly.

we bumped into some traffic on the highway. “what the hell!” he exclaims angrily. i sat up! this man is capable of emoting!

as if on cue, he started yelling at someone on his radio about ‘why would ralphie give him an SUV without the proper pick-ups?’ and so on and so forth nonsense.

WAIT. no more yelling! stop the yelling!

finally just as we’re pulling off the highway and into the blessed destination….he quietly announces “cellphones are the worst invention ever.”

and i chimed in with a hearty “MMhMM” of solidarity similar to a church congregation in enthusiasm. i even raised my arms slightly in praise.

in conclusion, i think for a split second, we were best friends.

my car and i meanwhile are still not speaking. mainly because he’s at the shop. POOR Buhbuhbuhbuhbay-BY. i’m afraid my parents are gonna send him to the glue factory after this latest hinkypoo (descended from a long line of hinkypoos).