Holy car issues, Batman!

So right now, I’m glad I got home in one piece and without calling for help.

Holy crap sticks!

Earlier tonight: I was driving to Fit To Be Tied after work and noticed the little, red battery light on my dashboard was on and the other lights on my dash we not as properly lit as they usually. I didn’t think much of it; the car was working fine, just some differences in dash lights.

…SO…

I still didn’t notice anything when I left Sarah’s just now…UNTIL… until I looked at my speedometer while turning onto Old Shakopee Road. What did I see? Still the same dash lights as before – one red battery light and dimmed other lights. But this time, instead of seeing a speed of about 38 miles per hour, I saw my speedometer, and all gauges, still resting nicely at the 7 o’clock position. They weren’t on! In fact, my back defrost wasn’t even trying to work anymore.

I gasped.

I sat up and forward slightly.

I thanked God I could actually see through my windshield somewhat (I thought ahead this afternoon and cleaned my windows).

I kept driving.

As I drove, after noticing the gauges not working, I started flipping through the radio stations to keep myself from having a panic attack. Normally this is probably worrisome, I’ll grant myself this, but I didn’t have dinner until 8:30. This matters because Sarah brought me a grande coffee from Starbucks and after drinking that, my heart sputtering, I was already on the verge of a caffeine induced panic attack. This whole car situation only added to that. While flipping through the stations I came upon Cities 97 (not my typical station). It was playing Dave Matthews’ song “Space Between” and I stopped because I knew the song and I recognized the fact that a song I knew would help ease my circumstance. No more than 40 seconds went by before my radio clicked off.

*

Off

*

Again, I gasped.

I may have even swerved a little.

“My car is slowly dying as I drive!”

CRAP!

“Please last till I get home. Please!”

All of this happened before France Ave.

Sweet.

I kept driving.

It’s a 90 Honda Accord with nearly 207,000 miles and hasn’t had many MAJOR repairs.

I kept driving.

The road seems dark. “Are my lights on?” I couldn’t tell if my lights were working or if I was just seeing the glare from the street lights. Did I mentioned I cleaned my windows and could thankfully see? I pressed the head/foot button because I was getting cold (I had been too distracted to turn on the heat). I held my hand to the vent to feel it; I do this while I drive alone. It has to be some compulsive thing – feeling the heat – because I didn’t notice I do it until tonight. My hand was at the vent.

Nothing…

…No…

…Heat.

“Whaaaaaat?”

I pressed the feet/defrost button and turned up the heat knob.

Nothing

I cycled through all of the buttons and knobs with different combinations.

Nothing.

Sweet. My car is STILL dying slowly as I drive.

Turn onto Xerxes and quickly 106.

I flash my brights. My car almost dies right there.

“OK, don’t do that again!”

I break as I turn and something starts clicking. I notice for the first time that some little, green S light is flashing. I have no idea what it means – it just flashes at me.

A car is behind me. It’s following rather close, but not annoyingly close. For the FIRST TIME in my life, I hope it’s a cop. Did I say that? Yes, part of me hoped it was the police. It felt comforting on some level to know I was being followed by a cop just in case my car died on 106. It wasn’t a cop. Then I realized something terrible – 35 W is coming up.

Expletive!

I turn onto the ramp, hill, thing leading onto 35. My car sputters. It spurts. It slows. It wheezes. I push the back defrost button again to turn it off because the orange light is bothering me. A sudden rush of power comes to my little Engine That Could. It keeps going!

I merge onto 35. Car a blowing past me; one car follows me, annoyingly close this time. I move my rear-view mirror out of my sight. I don’t care about anything or anyone behind me! I care about my poor car being on the highway! I’m assuming I was going about 50, if even that fast.

My car makes it home, with breaks and turn signals causing that clicking noise again.

Needless to say, I need to fix my car.

…OR…

Buy a new car finally.

Oh wait, I don’t have a real job. No job means to money. No money means no car.

Damn.

 

 

I need to be up and driving to work in six hours.

 

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