It is raining heavily, and I'm driving through downtown Yuppieville after dropping Joseph off at his apartment complex (of which he offered me a room for $700, like that was a deal). I notice the CD player goes dark, discontinuing Shinedown's throaty spell. Once that happens, the battery light shows on the dash, and then the ABS light blinks and stills, and yet, the airbag symbol arises. I immediate dial the house phone, and I get my father on the phone, knowing that this didn't mean good things for my SUV.
"[enter every cuss word known to man]!" I sound. "It just died on me." I was able to pull off to the side of the street, parked in the red zone, just outside the very bar I drank two glasses of wine in, before I met up with Joseph. I try to turn over the engine, and only a soft, clicking noise would emanate. The last thing I want is a Yuppieville police officer on a Saturday night, asking me how much I had to drink while I'm standing next to my decapitated Mazda.
Dad sounds removed, and oddly puzzled.
So, I stand in the rain, waiting for the fucking tow truck to show. The driver calls me, and asks for an address.
"I don't have one, I'm next to [Yuppieville bar]. I mean, I can google it, if you want me to." I'm pissed off because I have to pee.
"Oh, I could google it too," he replies, and then hangs up.
I watch a few minutes later as a tow truck drives by without even noticing me, so I chase his ass down the block, in the wet, in high heeled black boots.
My dad assures me tonight, after spending several hours trying to figure out what exactly is wrong with the Mazda since the shop I had it towed to is closed on Sundays. He says to me, "You look at it like it's a lifeline, but I just see it as a $1,500 piece of shit."
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