Ah, the perils of dating. I have told many a story about my experiences and why I hate starting a new relationship. What maybe I haven’t made clear however is that I also hate being single. There are SOME perks to having a shoulder to cry on, a willing ear to listen and maybe even someone to watch out for me when I don’t quite know what I am doing.
Growing up I was lucky enough to have my dad around. He was a tinkerer. He had a garage full of gadgets and I would get to help him with his projects from time to time, so I know my way around a toolbox. I can even run a power tool or two. When it comes to cars however… Count me out.
I’m not so helpless as to not be able to change my own tire or anything like that; I just don’t deal with the mechanics of the whole thing. That’s one of the things men are good for. (I’m not bashing females that can wrench, if you’re into that, you go girl!)
I’m driving along one day, minding my own business when my car decides it’s time to give me some trouble. It’s sputtering, chugging and for the most part refusing my sheer will just to make it home. I manage it get it into a parking lot when the power steering gives out and the car decides that it is done. I call a tow truck and have it hauled home. Where it sits and collects pollen.
It sits in my drive way because I, the person who has no clue about engines or their inner workings, have decided that it has a major issue and won’t be able to be fixed cheap. So I walk to work. Day in and day out. Through the rain, the ridiculous Florida heat, dogs chasing me down the road and yes, even once tripping over my own feet.
One fine day when I arrive at work one of the other employees asks me, what the HELL is the matter with your car? I tell her I have no idea, but whatever it is, I can’t afford to fix it. She tells me that she is going to send her husband to my house to look at it and let me know what is going on. I am sooo excited. I am just praying to myself that whatever it is will be easy on my budget and I won’t have to suffer the commute by foot anymore.
He’s at my house not too long when he calls his wife and tells her to please let me know that there is a hole on the side of the car where you put gas and that makes the car go. WTF? You mean to tell me that I have been haulin my fat ass to work for SEVEN months because my friggin car didn’t have any damn gas? You have got to be kidding me! OMG, I am so embarrassed.
So my prayers are answered, I put gas in the car and off I go again. This should be the happy ending to the story. But, oh no. NOT me. It happens again! You would think the second time that I would have realized that it’s the gas issue but sadly, I do not. So once again my co-workers very patient hubby goes over and looks at it. Laughs his ass off and tells me that I might want to replace the gas gauge because no matter what I do, the car is always going to need gas to run.
Ok, so I’m an idiot. Maybe if I HAD a steady boyfriend I wouldn’t have had to go through all that nonsense. Of course walking to work to work for seven months probably did me some good. Who knows how big my ass would be if I hadn’t gone through that experience!
