Of course, I’m a writer, dammit, not a mechanic. And the car is only mostly dead.
See, the Buick was getting old, so Charlie and I bought it from Mom, and Mom bought a new used car, which we don’t want to talk about in case we take it to court. The case, not the car.
So I’ve been driving the Buick. And the brake lights started shining, which is never a good thing. So I took it in to my local guy. Local guy checked the brakes, fixed what needed fixing, and told me not to worry about the lights. These are the yellow lights that say Anti-Lock and Trac Off.
And I drove and I drove and I drove and I drove, and more lights came on: Service Engine Soon and BRAKE. So we took it in to Charlie’s not-so-local guy. He replaced the front brakes and shocks springs and fixed the lights.
And the lights came back on. Not, fortunately, the horrible and terrifying RED BRAKE LIGHT, but the moderately disquieting yellow ones.
So I took it back. And he fixed the lights and the tie rod end, which was worn to a frazzle.
And the lights are back on. Still not BRAKE, but Low Tire and, in red, Security. Now, as any Star Trek fan will tell you, Red + Security = Trouble. So we took the car back in. And our guy has had it all day and hasn’t called us, and I have a low and sorrowful feeling that the Buick has hopped the twig.
Neither Charlie nor I relish the thought of looking for another car. But I sure ain’t pushing the damn thing everywhere.
Anybody got a Healing Potion for a Buick?
A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: A character faces the end of his or her means of transportation.