Katie claims that all of our posts are posted to humiliate her. This is completely selfish (haha just kidding, Katie, I had to say it) and TOTALLY untrue. This one, for example, is written to display my humiliating lack of knowledge of cars.
First of all, when I have car problems, there is a list of people I call to come and save me. The people are always contacted in this order:
- Taylor Holmes - the older brother
- Ryan Ditty
- Katie Smith
- Tanner Cutler (though he and I both know that that's more for moral support than anything else)
- AAA - my dad had the great sense to sign me up with these guys
On this particular night, I had just gotten back from my vacation to THE WIZARDING WORLD OF HARRY POTTER - heaven on Earth - and had souvenirs to give. I got Taylor - the older brother - this shirt with a picture of the Brazilian flag on it - a sound sensitive Brazilian flag (HECK yeah). I had just gotten off of work at the Megaplex - the work place - and was running out to Denton - the Car - to run over to his house and deliver the shirt that I knew he would TOTALLY love. But what happens when I try to start my car?
It doesn't start. Which usually means the battery died, and I didn't have jumper cables in my car - not that it would've helped. Since I was on my way to Taylor - the older brother's - house, and given the time of night, I didn't want to call him all the way out there. Ryan lives just a little way away, so I called him. Guess what happened?
Ryan didn't answer (Ryan, I don't hold it against you at all don't worry.) I waited for about five minutes and called again, and, yet again, he didn't answer. I figured he'd fallen asleep, so I moved down to the next person on my list - Katie. She answered the phone and I explained my predicament.
"I'll be there soon," she sighed into the phone and I thanked the heavens up above that I'd had the sense to make friends with people that knew what to do with broken cars - excepting Tanner of course (not that I'm one to talk, obviously). I chilled out in my car - literally, because it was kind of cold and since my car wouldn't turn on I didn't have a heater. Kate arrived and we began the process of jumping my car. My phone vibrated with a text from Ryan: Sorry, I was in the shower. What's up?
I explained my predicament and told him not to worry because Kate was there, and that I'd keep him posted (haha, it's kind of ironic to use that word in a post). I had to text Taylor and tell him that I was running late because of some car problems, and being my older brother, he freaked out and told me he was coming anyway.
By the time he got there, Katie and I had realized that the jump wasn't working because Denton - the Car - was out of gas - for the first time in this history of his depressing, dented life. So we'd gone UP to Katie's house, gathered the crappy gas tank, drove ALL the way back down to the Maverick down the street from theatre, filled the gas tank, and had begun refilling the tank. He took one look at me and shook his head in the most sarcastically disappointed manner I'd ever seen on his face.
Taylor - the older brother - took the gas tank from me and quickly finished before running to the front of the car and checking the connection of our jumper cables. He sat in the drivers seat and worked his magic. Denton's engine roared to life, and I continued to shower Katie and Taylor with praises and thanks.
---SEVENTEEN HOURS LATER---
I was driving to Katie's house, from Maddiline - The Supreme Samurai's - house. As I pulled out from Maddiline - The Supreme Samurai's - neighborhood, my car made this really high pitched screeching noise.
Now, I promise you I'm not car retarded enough to think that that's normal. But there was nothing I could do about it at the time so I just kept driving. I got on to the main road - Canyon Road, for those of you who live in the area - and chanced a look out my rear view mirror, only to see a thick plume of putrid smoke issuing from the back of my car.
This seriously confused me because, as far as I knew, there wasn't anything in that part of the car that could smoke. So I pulled over and got out, only to see that the rear passenger side tire had disintegrated. Since I was on the way to Katie's house, I skipped the first two people on my list and called her. I explained my situation and she sighed.
"SEVENTEEN hours, Paige," she exclaimed. "SEVENTEEN!!"
"Yeah, I know," I said.
"I'm on my way," she said.
I sat on the side of the road - with an operating heating system - until she got there with her jack. I watched as she began changing the tire, and just as she was finishing screwing on the spare, this white truck pulls up and two men get out.
"Can we help you guys?" they asked.
Katie shot me a look that screamed, REALLY?! You show up now?! and turned towards them.
"You can help us finish if you'd like."
They made entertaining small talk as they finished, and bid us a happy farewell. Katie and I hugged, laughing, and reaffirmed the original plans to meet at her house.
--- SEVENTEEN SECONDS LATER ---
I get down the mountain, and do a rear view mirror check. What do I see?
Another freaking plume of smoke. I pulled over, checked the spare and guess what I found?
The SPARE had disintegrated. I started laughing so hard I almost fell over and called Katie back.
"So . . . you're never gonna guess what just happened."
"My spare just died."
"I'm turning around."
"I love you."
I sat in my car on the side of the road, yet AGAIN. Katie showed up and we jacked up the car. The higher and higher she pushed the car, more and more dirt fell out of the spare tire. By the time we finished jacking it, there was a THREE INCH mountain of dirt under the tire. Katie and I retreated to Death - Eater of Humans - and called AAA. This really nice representative picked up the phone, made sure we were safe, told us that she was in Ohio and trying to find our location on her computer. We told her we were just on the Cedar Hills side of the Cedar Hills/Highland border. Fifteen minutes of forced small talk later, she asked:
"Are you in northern or southern California?"
Katie looked up from the yearbook-bag she'd been reading and said, "I am your inspiration."
I sighed, and prayed for the patience to get through the whole situation. "I'm actually in Utah," I replied as politely as I could.
"Oh, that would make a lot more sense," she said slowly.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Give me just a second."
About an hour later, the tow guy finally showed up and took poor old Denton - the Car - to the tire shop about two minutes down the road. I am proud to report that Denton - the Car - is, once again, in operating on all cylinders. Despair not, dear friends - I'm sure there are more entertaining car stories in the near future. ESPECIALLY with yours truly behind the wheel.
Moments Like These