Suicidal Transportation

Everybody has a curse. Everybody.

My messenger bag was so heavy I began to tilt to one side as I walked in darkness to my Toyota. My college education absorbed my entire day, and as I strutted to my automobile I was free. I was free from lectures, broken pencils, and vending machines that were usually out of peanut M&Ms.

The end of the day is always the best part of the day. I drove home like I was making a getaway. I could almost taste the macaroni and cheese I had planned to make when I got home. I knew thousands (or one) TV show awaited my arrival at home. Wilco sang through my stereo, "I know where I'll be tonight, alright Outta mind outta site."

The gas light flickered as I pulled into an ARCO station. ARCO is the poor- folk's gasoline but it gets the job done. After my tank was full, I turned my key and got nothing. Not even a mild rumbling came out from the engine. My car had commited suicide. I kicked the gas pedal and screamed inwardly. I thought for a moment and realized I was not surprised at my car's immobility. Destiny had arrived once more. I should have known...

I have driven 5 cars in the past 5 years. All of them died while I was gripping their ungrateul steering wheels. One was keyed with an 'X' and died in a Chick Fila drive thru. An eye-rolling teenage employee had to push me through the fastfood line. In February, I bought a red Saturn and it sizzled to an early grave 2 days after I gave my life savings for it. I have hydroplaned and spun out twice. I have been in 5 accidents. For an entire summer I had to duct-tape my keys to my dashbored to keep my air conditioning working. I have been towed 4 times and have gotten roughly a thousand parking tickets.

Everyone has something that never seems to work out: School, work, health, relationships, etc. Everybody has that one thing that with perfect performance always seems to fail.

I suffer from the car curse. It is a rare form of curse that has not proven to be fatal (yet), but rather punishes my attempts at succesful car ownership. I am in a constant game of checkers with the universe. Will today be the day my car murders me? I live in fear of the day the universe exclaims, "check mate" or whatever it is you yell when you win checkers (checkers mate?) When that day arrives, I'm pretty sure someone somwhere will be digging a car shaped grave.

The tow truck arrived two hours late to the ARCO. My sister and a dear friend came to support my trial. I turned the key about a dozen more times hoping that my car had acquired the ability to heal itself. My sister, out of compassion, bought a six pack of Squirt to help soothe my tired soul. Carlos, the tow truck operator, was disappointed that I didn't know how to open my car hood but he charged my car nonetheless.

I drove down Tustin Avenue and dreamt of living in a land without automobiles. I'm pretty sure there is a 'no cars allowed' rule in heaven. Gas leaks would look terrible on the streets of gold.