My Curse

So, this morning my car didn’t start.

“What?” you say in disbelief and horror, “Didn’t you just get a new car, Liz? And less than a month ago?”

“Yes, yes I did, concerned friend. In fact, as I’ve mentioned before with ecstatic glee (yes, glee), it’s the first car I’ve owned that was made within the current decade. A big step up for me.”

“Oh, Liz,” you say with a sigh, “I’m so sorry about your curse.”

“Me too.” I reply with resignation.

Really, I can’t talk about it without a slow feeling of rage/dread/hopelessness beginning to grow.

So, to suppress those feelings and look on the Brightside, I’ll share with you, my friends, a few of the many tips I’ve learned from my constant and crappy car trouble.

Rule Number One: When your tire explodes, and you begin to careen to your death, you are not to:

a) flail your arms about to passing vehicles (they can see you are in trouble, and you should really hold on to the wheel while swerving),

b) continue to drive hoping you can make it home (you can’t, and the damage will be much worse), and

c) drive into a ditch (it only makes things worse when the tow truck guy comes).

Rule Number Two: When your car decides to stop working while driving on the freeway, and stalls in the slow lane and you have to leave it in said slow lane (because you can’t pull on to the shoulder because there is no shoulder due to construction) you should:

a) climb out of the passenger-side window, even if you are a chunky girl and are afraid of hurting yourself or getting stuck,

b) carry a pair of tennis shoes in the car because climbing down the side of a hill, over a little stream, and walking through the wilderness that magically appeared on the side of the freeway is hard to do in sandals, and

c) always leave a note on the car so that the police officer (who will eventually come) will know that you are not some nut who left your car to cause an accident, but actually went for help (despite your need for a Sherpa to navigate the landscape).

Rule Number Three: When your car spins out of control and you end up facing the wrong direction, (and can see cars coming to kill you), you should:

a) pray,

b) make peace with God, and

c) try to start your car and drive away.

And here’s a bonus tip.

Tow Truck Small Talk:

If you’re lucky, your tow truck driver will have music on blaringly loud and all conversation can be avoided. All you’ll have to do then is stare out the window as if you’re contemplating the meaning of life, or riffle through your purse like you’re looking for a missing gold nugget. (You want to appear like you’re doing something very important so that he doesn’t decide to strike up a conversation.)

If you’re unlucky, and you have a Chatty Cathy driver, then just answer his questions as succinctly as possible. And if he offers advice on your vehicle, just nod your head and agree with him. Some safe questions you can ask him (Or her, I suppose it could be a her. But in my extensive experience, it has only been a him.) are as follows: “How long have you been a tow truck driver?” That’s it.


Well, there you go friends! If my suffering can help even one of you, then it’s all been worth it!

No, actually that’s not true.

I’d gladly hand over my curse to any one of you; I’ve had my turn with it.