Cars and stuff...

Cars are not my friends. I’m good with technology for the most part, but machines and I are mortal enemies. I read once that difficulty with machines was a sign of psychic ability, like how technology won’t work at Hogwarts because there’s too much magical interference. I  sew by hand because I break sewing machines.

I struggle as a car owner. My first car, Beast, was picked out by my then boyfriend’s dad, who apparently knew his way around cars and assured me the car had been well taken care of. 

Bull.

The car was apiece of shit.

My net boyfriend spent hours upon hours working on the car, fixing problem after problem.

Then my transmission went out.

I junked the car and utilized UTA for the next ten months. Then with my tax return, I bought an `88 Honda Civic I affectionately named Gizmo. It was a terrifying  two weeks as I learned how to drive stick while living in the Avenues (for anyone out of Utah, the avenues are set on very, very steep hills), but once I finally stopped killing it in traffic, I came to really enjoy my little Gizmo, even though I had to replace the clutch and the fuel pump, and the engine sounds like a full orchestra lives inside it. 

My preferred ride

All semester I’ve been waiting for my engine to die, and praying that it lasts until I have more than half an hour to get from the U to Taylorsville. This morning I walked out to the parking lot and Gizmo was gone.

It seems my luck with cars has not improved. It didn’t break down this time, but worse, it’s gone completely. Honda Civics are notoriously easy to break into. 

So it seems tonight I will be spending my time talking to Geico and the police, while wistfully daydreaming of having reliable transportation in the form of a dragon. I’d much rather be doing what I did last night, namely organizing my pokemon cards while watching “Heroes” on DVD and drinking wine.

Ah, adulthood.