Episode II of the Tragic Buick LeSabre Saga

The day began just as any other would. I awoke staring sleepily at the plain white ceiling. Showered, ate breakfast, and headed to work. To set the mood a little bit, I must inform you all that yesterday I was left with no choice but to abandon my usual transportation, "The Buick", at my workplace. Why? It was in one of those moods. I was forced to depend on the golden Volvo to accommodate my driving needs, and it performed decently - however, nothing beats the crisp sound system of the now broken Buick.

After a completely uneventful day at work, I headed out into the sweltering heat to see if the Buick would come through for me. To my utter delight, it roared to life with such zeal that I felt like a small boy again. I figured that it would be best for me to go ahead and take this opportunity and run with it, before the car decided to fail me again. I hopped in, plugged in the iPod, and headed on my way. The thought of the car just "dying" in the middle of my voyage home never really crossed my mind. It had happened once, but like lightning, I never dreamed that such misfortune would strike the same defenseless driver twice. To my horror, shortly after I passed Greenwood High, the engine died. To my luck, however, I wasn't nearing an uphill stretch of road. After I finished celebrating my luck in not being at a hill, I realized that I'd need to find a place to pull over, or else I'd slow to a stop, and disgruntled drivers behind me would pull out their firearms. Finally, after scouring both sides of the road (and slowing to about 20 miles an hour in a 35 zone), I turned into a neighborhood called "Bell-Meade". If the spelling is incorrect, I apologize. I conveniently came to a stop completely blocking someones driveway.

Once I realized that I wasn't going to get home by sitting in the car and crying, I got out and assessed the damage. I came to the following conclusions:
(1. The car wasn't going to start
(2. I wasn't going to sprout wings, enabling me to soar home for help.
(3. No one would know I was stranded unless I gathered the courage to knock on one of the nearby doors asking for a phone (I foolishly left my cell-phone at home, not foreseeing this tragedy).

So that's what I did. I knocked on the nearest door (which happened to belong to a spooky and seemingly single red-headed man). He was nice enough, but was watching some awfully creepy murder movie in his living room. I stayed for the briefest amount of time possible. I simply couldn't stand his mysterious moustache and the rubbish-equivalent movie that was playing mute on his television.

After long, tireless minutes of waiting and wondering, the calvary (aka my dear mother) came to my rescue. We pushed the wounded vehicle forward, as to unobstruct (Not sure if that's a word) the driveway that it was in front of.

My mom drove me back to Bruster's so that I could at least drive the Volvo back home. I stopped at Chick-Fil-A for food on my way home.

This evening I plan to gather my emotions and maybe try my luck one more time in starting the car. If it happens to honor my efforts, I'll swiftly zoom over to Crider, where I'll park it and leave it to think about what it's done. Hopefully I'll have someone look at it in the next few days.

If this has never happened to you, count yourself blessed, and pray that it never does.


My car is a heartbreaker.