“I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK”

by alittlehoneyformyheart

It’s only 9.45 in the morning, i haven’t even gone to bed yet and i’ve already been mortified to near tears in the span of 15 minutes!

My mother told me to back my car out of the garage because it was blocking hers which was in front. I went down to grab my keys and got into my car. Everything was going fine and dandy when all of a sudden, i heard this muffled voice, sort of like an out of signal radio station. I lowered down the radio and thought nothing of it because my dad had borrowed it the night before so he must have changed the station. A few seconds pass and suddenly i realize that the voice is still talking and meanwhile, the radio was never on in the first place. I peer out of the window in confusion and see my brother in delighted convulsions, he’s laughing so hard and pointing at me.

I get out of the car and i’m absolutely shocked and mortified that the sound, a woman’s voice to be precise, is coming from my car and it is loud as fuck once i’ve opened the door. It was practically the volume of the bloody ice cream truck!

“I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK,” over and over and over again til the fucking cows came home

I’m almost hopping about in fury, i probably looked like a red-faced baboon standing in the middle of the road in my green kaftan pajamas. My mum, on the other hand, couldn’t care to find out, she just stuck her head out of her window and told me to have it out with my dad before zooming off in her quiet, non-confrontational minivan.

BACKSTORY: Now, if there’s one thing you must know. I absolutely hate sharing. And i absolutely hate lending things and you know why? Because 90% of the time you lend someone something, a) it’s not going to be there when you need it to be, b) it’s not going to be back when they say it will be or c) it’s not going to be in the same condition compared to if you had kept it to yourself and brought it to your grave. Or d) all of the above, which happens more often than you’d dare to hope. Last night when my dad told me he needed to use my car i of course wasn’t too happy about it but what could i say right? He’d bought it for me so it was technically his to keep if he wanted!

So i grit my teeth and put on a brave face and passed over the keys. He told me he’d have it back by 5 or 6 latest and i’d nodded wearily and told him as gently as possible that i was expected somewhere by 6.30. But as expected, by 7.30 he still wasn’t back and only after i’d texted him that he told me he’d be back by 9.

“S’okay, i’ve just cancelled my plans anyway,” i tell him. I understand that he’s busy and sometimes there are things that you can’t help, plus no one wants to be holed up in an office that late by choice.

BACK TO THE STORY:

“I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK,” without stopping the entire time i was reversing out onto the driveway. It didn’t even have to wait for the car to start moving, it began as soon as you pull the gear into reverse.

And also, why for God’s sake did it have to be so sassy?! Couldn’t it have been a cordial yet sophisticated beep, a mild beacon and a firm but gentle caution instead of a harsh headmaster’s boom??

I run back into the house, seeing red as i furiously text my dad. I can sense an full on Regina George bitch fit coming on if i have to be seen, no, heard, driving that car around! I have tolerated a lot of things, a lot of humiliation and embarrassment in my 22 years of living; i didn’t even demand anything or make much of a big deal back when my car took 30 minutes to warm up every single time i switched it on and i had to rev the engine til kingdom come, so loudly that Mr. Walker would probably be able to hear it from the heavens. But this, this was just too much to even contemplate!

“I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK I JUST HAVE TO TELL YOU, THIS CAR IS MOVING BACK”

Oh i hate it so much when people tamper with my things.

My dad calls me back within 30 seconds cause i think he can sense that i’m in hysterics. Surprisingly, my dad took it in full stride and gave me straight forward instructions while i ran back downstairs all the while inquiring as calmly as possible, “WHAT HAVE YOU DOOOONE TO MY CAR, DADDDDD, WHAT HAVE YE DONEEEE TO ITTTT”. The thing is, he doesn’t seem to know what he’s done because he says he’s never heard it before.

“It wasn’t like that last night, i’m serious.”

“Then why is it like that now, dad? WHAT HAVE YOU DONEEEE *tries to catch breath cause i’ve been running everywhere*”

Either he’s winding me up or my car has been fucking possessed by the restless soul of Mr.Softy. He then tells me to open up the back and disconnect the red wire running down the side of the bonet. As soon as i pull it off with my bare hands, the voice stops yelling and i can finally hear the birds again.

It’s been a few minutes and i’ve finally calmed down enough to text my dad an apology for interrupting his meeting. I even manage to thank him for parking my car in the garage because if he hadn’t, my car would still be parked on the driveway which means i wouldn’t have had reason to reverse and find out until i was in the middle of somewhere crucial. I shudder to think what would have happened if i had only found out as i was side parking in front of a restaurant or a mall. CREYES.

I just told my boyfriend and he laughed so hard i thought he was having a seizure. I’ve never even heard him snort before this. I still don’t find it funny but it’s going to make a good story, that i know. Okay now i can sleep (although should i have a bowl of pasta and another episode of Miranda before i do? Or nay? Maybe nay, i don’t want to wake up splotchy and bloated).

That’s all for now!

xx

P.s. And yes, i am naturally, at the core of it, deep deep down, a dramatic overbearing whine of a person. But i swear, and you can ask my friends this, i really am much more peaceful to co-exist with than you’d think! K. End.

Advertisements