You know, I'm a pretty resilient, unflappable sort of person.
Once you stop laughing, I'll give you a second to clean off your monitors. Ready? Ok.
I can handle that my car doesn't have a huge engine with double-overhead-cam turbo-boost thrust-regulators. I can even handle that I have no clue what a 'cam' actually is, if it's located in my engine, or how I just wrote 'thrust-regulator' without giggling. That's ok.
I was fine when the ride became less than comfortable, even. I don't need 'cushy'. I don't need plush seats. Sure, my car could use an entirely new suspension, but that's the kind of thing that's reserved for people that eat Beluga eggs by the ton, I guess. I don't even like whales.
That Helen Keller would consider my car visually repugnant, well, there's not a whole lot I can do about that. Or willing to do, either. I am in my car all of 15 minutes a day, tops, and I don't need a car that's aesthetically pleasing. Not at all. Hell, aqua is just as manly as pink, right?
All I ask for out of a car is something that reliably transports me from point A to point B, and sometimes C and D, depending on how horny I am. That's it. But I'm not sure how I feel about my latest vehicular development.
I walked out to my car yesterday morning--like I'm apt to do before getting in it and driving to work--and like many of you out there, noticed that my locks were frozen. Not a big deal, as it had rained the night before and the temperature overnight had dropped substantially. It's happened before, and I'm sure it will happen again. I hopped in through the non-frozen passenger side door, assuming that the midday sun would be enough to cause a thaw.
My assumption was spot on, and right I was. I tried the driver's side lock on my way to get animal crackers and a Frappucino from another building a little after noon, and it opened, no problem.
It even unlocked when I left work at 5pm, so I figured that would be the end of it. Wrongly figured, I might add.
"BOOONNNNNNNK!" said the car door as it bounced off the jam without the lock catching.
Hmm, that can't be good, can it? I tried again, with the same result.
Had it been summer, had there been daylight, or, I don't know, had it not been ball-shriveling cold out, I would've gotten out of my car to take a look at the locking mechanism and take the appropriate steps to fix it. But it's winter, when it gets dark at 4:30pm, and it was so cold that my gonads were a foot higher than they should've been. But all I wanted was for my car door to close, like, right away.
When I tried to slam it for the third time, I pushed the lock down to see if that would get the job done. It worked, and I drove all the way home believing that I was the smartest god-damn man in the god-damn universe. I would've been better setting my sights on just being smarter than my car.
Unfortunately I can't even claim the latter, because in my haste to get home in time to watch Reba, it seems I broke my door.
I am now the proud owner of a '95 aqua Geo Prizm(5 speed!) with a faulty clutch, bad suspension, tires that are rapidly going bald(like Grandpa!), and a driver's side door that doesn't open.
Ladies, I know you want a piece of this.
The worst part about this is that it had to happen in the winter. At least in the summer I could spray paint it orange, slap a confederate flag on the roof and jump in through the open window. But there is nothing cool about a grown man with a real job squeezing into his own car through the passenger side door. Not even if he flexes while doing it.
Believe me, I tried.