The day I took my very life into my hands
So I'm at work yesterday, walking back to my desk, when one of the guys I work with comes up to me.
Him: You can't drive home today.
Me: What are you talking about?
Him: I came up from the parking lot to tell you. You can't drive home.
Me: What are you TALKING about? (The wheels start turning.) Wait a second ... did they TOW me??? (I parked in a lot I'm technically not supposed to park in. Technically.)
Him: What? No. But you're leaking gas. At first I thought it was antifreeze, but I got down and looked under your car and it totally smells like gas.
Me: You got down on the ground to look under my car?
Me: Awww! That was nice of you.
Him: OK, but seriously, you really shouldn't drive it. Do you want a ride home?
Me: Wait. Just wait a second. I REALLY can't drive home?
Him: Do you want your car to blow up?
Me: Very funny.
Him: I'm not kidding.
Me: My car is not gonna BLOW UP. (Pause.) Is it?
Him: If some gas catches on the tailpipe, it could start a fire or explode.
Me: So what am I supposed to DO?
Him: Get it towed.
Me: You've got to be kidding me. I have to TOW it?
Him: If you don't want to die.
Goody! I thank my car-loving friend for saving my life, send him on his merry way and go downstairs to inspect the situation myself. Yes, there is gas. And it reeks. I get in my car and turn on the engine to see how much gas is left, since I'd just barely filled it up. It's still on full ... so it can't be THAT bad, right? I call my dad to ask him if I really can't drive it just a couple little miles to the shop.
Him: Good question. (Pause.) So when are you going to get a new car?
Me: OK, can we focus here for a second?
Him: I've been telling you for months to get a new car.
Me: Really? I hadn't noticed.
Him: You're just going to have to keep getting stuff fixed if you don't ...
Me: OK, FOCUS! Can I drive or not?
Him: I'd get it towed if I were you.
Me: Fine. I'll call you back.
I call the insurance company and tell them the deal. The guy's like, OK, I'll send out a tow truck ... but you have to do something first. I'm like, do WHAT? And he goes, "You have to call the fire department and have them come out and make sure it's safe to move your car and THEN we'll call the tow truck."
At this point I'm seriously like, you have got to be kidding me. There are people that need to be saved from burning buildings and cats that need to be saved from trees and you want the fire department to come out to my little office parking lot to say, yeah, all right, move your car? And THEN, after they leave, I have to wait an hour or 10 for the tow truck to get there?
At this point I make an executive decision: Go inside, finish up my work and then drive oh-so-slowly down the back roads to the first shop I see. Inside, I tell someone else what's going on.
Him: The fire department? That's ridiculous. You'll be fine driving it. (Pause.) You're not recording this conversation, right?
Me: You mean so you don't get sued if my car goes up in flames on the way home?
Me: Uh, no.
Him: Good. (Pause.) Hope you don't die.
Me: Yeah, thanks. Really.
I drive up the road, shooting paranoid glances in my rearview mirror every 10 feet, and pull up to the shop that's pretty close to work. The guy is a total jerk and won't look at it. I'm like, FINE, BE THAT WAY, and drive a few miles more to my usual shop, all while thinking that jerkboy will feel SO BAD if my car turns into a fireball on the way.
Thankfully, I arrive unscathed. I love the boys at my shop. They're so nice to me and never take advantage of me for being a dumb girl and they always look at my car right that second. So they jack up the car and ... yeah. Apparently your friend Swish might have put a little too much gas in the tank when she filled it up. I'm supposed to go back tomorrow so they can look at it again just to make sure, but that was their prognosis.
At least I'm alive. And not still waiting for a tow truck.