Car Trouble, or 1.21 Jigawatts Deux:
The whole DeLorean plan fell through the minute I suggested it to Eric at Enterprise, so I’ll be cruising around town this week in a Pontiac Grand Am. That it’s silver, two-door, and has a spoiler only reinforces the fact that I am driving a sorority girl car. Not even an A-list sorority girl, either. Like, her name’s Amy, and she’s the girl the guys in the big frat cheat on their girlfriends with, but never leave them for. Amy’s house is totally second-tier. Amy still loves leopard print. Amy gets purple fake nails every week. Amy’s favorite TV show is Charmed, and for completely unironic reasons.
Amy is a pseudo-skank with a heart of gold. And I’m driving her car.
The fact that it’s silver is a little redeeming, though. I’ve always wanted a silver car.
On my way back to the office, chilling in Amy’s car and listening to that new Brandy song on the radio, just because you know Amy would, the car starts dinging and lights come on all over the dashboard. Lots of lights! Different lights! Lights that say ABS, lights that say TRAC OFF, and most fun of all, lights that say SERVICE VEHICLE SOON. I drove it back to work and called good old Eric at Enterprise.
His sage advice?
“I guess just keep driving it, and if something happens, we’ll trade you out.”
Eric, Eric, Eric. Not if I’m dead because it blew up as a result of me not SERVICING the VEHICLE SOON enough, you won’t.
Then. Then! Then I get the check from Mr. Pathfinder’s insurance company for the work on my car. Only it’s for $1200 instead of $1386, which was the estimate. And they’ve already started working on it. Grrrrreat.
You know, the only summary I can really think of for this whole scenario is that I wish Amy was a real girl, because she probably has some really good gossip, and I would so totally set her up with Mr. Turquoise Pathfinder.