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So like 99% of the people living in America, I have a car. But I really should not have this car. Or any car. Or really any object that requires maintenance and could possibly start the chain reaction ending in the Apocalypse.

Reason #1: Warning Lights Occasionally Go On without Warning

I have decreed that any warning lights that appear within the confines of my car are merely suggestive alien lights and shouldn’t be taken seriously.  Why?  Because from careful study and scientific analysis I have discovered that these lights will eventually go away on their own.  Is it because the light bulbs fueling these warnings have gone out?  Uncertain.

This means something….

Reason #2: Because of these suggestive lights I don’t bring the car in for maintenance

My belief in life is that if you want me to take care of you, you must make some kind of noise to get my attention.  Which is why my cat lives and my plants die.  So too goes my car.  I feel that if it was REALLY in danger it would sprout self-awareness and send me an email.  Or better yet, make an appointment on its own and then drive itself to the dealership.  Is that too much to ask?  I think not.

Or better yet, transform into this.  I would listen to you all day and night if you were this.

Reason #3: Because of 1 and 2 I do things that will someday end up as footnotes in the Big Book of Darwin Awards

Pro-tip: the low fuel light warning actually has a point.  One winter (not that many winters ago…) I drove for 4 days with that light shining like a little angry beacon desperately seeking batman or someone who decides that a few minutes in the cold refilling the car is a worthwhile pastime.  Instead this car had me.

Which means that one day I left work and got about 6 blocks away before my car died.  I was actually quite shocked that it occurred.  I somehow thought that if I just willed the car to run all the way home that somehow that willfulness would become a reality.  (Do you ever think the world be run better if it was fueled by my ideas?  Because IIIIIIIIIIIIII do!)

As I mentioned, it was winter, and as I live in the land of Minnesnowta it was snowing.  Or more accurately, it was having a blizzard.  Oh, and this is a topic for another day but, I wasn’t wearing a jacket.  Or boots.  Or a hat and mittens.  I was also suspiciously absent of a scarf-like object.

I weighed my options.  On one hand I had a cell phone and could call my parents and explain the situation.  On the other hand I could just walk the mile to the gas station and get some gas.  I decided the physical reality of ice and snow would be less troublesome then explaining to my parents about how big bug-eyed aliens had stolen the gas out from my very car!

This proved to be a rather poor choice as the roads had not been plowed and I was very cold.  However, I persevered and made it in one piece to the gas station.  The attendant helped me procure a gas container and a few precious gallons of gas and some nice customer who didn’t end up being an axe murderer brought me back to my car.

And there I was, triumphant with my plastic container of gas, standing in two feet of snow.  I was not beaten by these incredible events of the day!  I twisted the opening of the gas container and…… nothing happened.  It was so cold outside that the tiny bit of condensation from the warm building had frozen up and the cap wouldn’t come off.  I was doomed.

Except that I remembered I had my cell phone and so I called my parents and got the predicted reaction out of them.  Which meant that I ended up choosing and receiving both evils for the price of one.

The moral of the story is to always wear a jacket in winter.

‘Tis a flesh wound!

The end.