Ha. It amuses me that this blog's category is: automotive. I picked it, whatever. But this little "memoir" is more under the category I like to call: "My Accord looked like hell, and someone stillwanted to steal that shit". Of course I know that Honda's are notorious for being stolen. In fact, most of them are practically on their knees, begging to be stolen..."Pleeeeease, I'm a Honda for God's sake, just wiggle your way into my window, it's sooooo easy!" My car, the little tramp I always knew she was. If only I had known just how easy she was. So for those of you out-of-the-know, my car was stolen last week. My big, beautiful, rusty, crusty chipped-paint, '92 Honda Accord. (*I would've written this a lot sooner, but finals were under way this week and it was emergency cram time.)
Anywho, I wake up early on Tuesday morning because I want to scoop up my tips from work and grab a coffee on the way to class. I don't typically plan my mornings out so brilliantly, but this morning was different. I was determined to start the day off smoothly. But alas...my fate was sealed when I wander down to the parking lot to find...well, nothing. At first, I stay calm, and figure I just visually "misplaced" it. Afterall, sometimes I do park it in obscure places, hidden behind a tree or a particularly large plant. But it wasn't long before I realized what was really going on. My trusty vehicle...was gone, stolen from my very hands. I won't lie, I was furious. Fucking angry, to be more exact.
I've never driven a new car, that I owned, in my entire life. But I rarely complained about the conditions of my elderly Hondas. More often than not, I defended those little bastards for every little dollar they were worth. I appreciate the Honda's other reputation for being a reliable, borderline immortal car. I thanked my lucky stars that I even had a car to drive at all. And I thank my wonderful brother Shawn for helping keep those babies together when they weren't so reliable. So really, I had honest respect for my latest one. The problem is, this wasn't the first time this has happened, broken into anyway. The first team couldn't quite make it out of the parking lot; ha sorry, guys...you suck! The second team went for the gold...the beloved cd player, and walked away with that gold...still bitter about this one...bastards.
Of course, shortly after I called the police and did a report, etc., they end up finding my car on the side of the road with flat spare tires that they had swapped in. They couldn't even wait to get to the destination before taking my tires? Smart one, guys. Well, this story's getting way longer than expected, so fastforward to this week, and now I am driving this brand new, beautiful (ok, beautiful to me, anyway) rental car with...gasp...a cd player. No more risking my life for music via my ipod! However, there is a chance that I will get my old car back, depending on the insurance company. But here's the thing. I'm beginning to see this situation as if it were a drowning relationship with an unfaithful boyfriend. He's already made out with some other girl, then he goes and fools around with that trashy skank from Forever 21...and now? He's done the unthinkable, and after all I put up with, defending his premature receding hairline, etc. That ungrateful jack ass. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't want this car back. I can't take the emotional pain again. I need to start fresh, with a new boyfriend analogy, and a new(er) car.
I really wish I lived in a place where I didn't need a car. I would totally be okay with walking everywhere I had to go. But this is Charlotte, North Carolina, where one can count the number of sidewalks with one hand (and probably get hit by a car while they are walking around the city counting sidewalks). In the meantime, I will relish in the newness and fresh scent of my rental, and play the hell out of the cd player.
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