busin' it

My utopian lifestyle, I have come to conclude, is based upon public transportation. Fuck cars with their $600 clutches, stupid mass airflow meters, regular oil changes, dumb-ass check engine lights, oozing battery acids, tier blow-outs, frozen doors, rude thieves, inefficient fossil fuel consumptions, government mandated insurance policies, random unpreventable altercations, and 60-month loans. I'm done with it.

So, yeah, I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed this week --spread too thin as it were-- but I was getting over it. Yesterday, I left work four hours early; I was home by noon. I figured to hell with all the bullshit and left… no sneaking, no covert ops, no guilt… just me getting the hell out. I spent a rare Thursday afternoon with my honey and enjoyed the rare 50(+) degree weather in February. Then in the evening, I picked up my buddy, Brook, form campus and headed over to his house for some heavy studying. Maybe it wasn't heavy studying; I think I glanced at my books and notes like twice. My outlook on life was becoming more optimistic. I realized that, in the grand scheme of things, I'm one lucky guy. Friends, family, decent income, good health… it's all there under the bullshit. I left Brook's a bit later than I intended, but I was having a blast and there will be plenty of time to sleep when I'm dead.

Sometime between then (picking Brook up) and then (leaving his house) the weather had done a 180 from a balmy 50-degrees to wet, wet snow in a matter of hours. Whatever, that's Denver for you. I drove home feeling better about life, all the while rappin' freestyle with the GZA's Beneath the Surface. Yes, I was happy and content. I was bustin' weak rhymes as the top of my lungs… and then, halfway home, the car sputtered as I shifted into second gear. Sputter, cough, choke, dead. Fuck you, VW Golf! I tuned on the hazards, guided the car to the far right lane, and tried the ignition. Cough, cough! I turned the key again. Cough, cough, nothing! I popped the hood, knowing full well that there was nothing I could do in the frozen slush without any tools. Even if I had a complete arsenal of tools and a high-tech mechanic's garage, I still would've been S.O.L. But what else could I do? Aside from checking and refilling fluids, I know how to do three things to an automobile and all three of those things relate to the battery: change the battery, check the water level in the cells, and use jumper cables. Whoo-hoo, look at me; I'm a skilled mechanic.

There I stood, in the street, illuminated by the intermittent blinking of my orange hazard lights. I didn't even bother sticking my head under the hood. I just stood there and surveyed the situation from a defeated posture. After fifteen minutes of motionless observation, my hands were numb, my feet were wet, and my shoulders sported a thick layer of snow. Eventually, I hopped back in the car and pessimistically turned the ignition. After much sputtering and growling, the engine caught and began idling roughly.

I made it home. Knowing my limitations regarding auto repair, I did the one thing I was trained to do by the all-wise neko. I snapped the cap off the battery and found that one cell was completely empty. I poured some bottled water in the cell, recapped the battery, and test started the VW. Three times in a row it fired up instantaneously. After "fixing" the battery I felt a little better about the situation, however I was still a bit concerned knowing that Sherry and Lori would be driving around the next day in a car that died unexpectedly the previous night. For what it's worth, today I will be buying a new battery and replacing the old one. If that doesn't fix the problem then I'm screwed because that is the extent of my car-fixing abilities.

This morning before I left for work I decided to check the VW. I tried to open the driver's side door. The piece of shit was frozen shut. So I opened the passenger's door and was treated to a scene of internal devastation and chaos. Someone fucking ransacked our car last night. Napkins, trash, and spare change were strewn all over the fucking place. What a mess. After a quick inventory, it looked like the only thing missing is the cell phone charger that plugs into the cigarette lighter. Shit sucks, man.

The car did start up right away, but I didn't give a fuck anymore. My mood was already screwed… still is screwed.

Why the fuck do we even have a car? We live a mile from downtown Denver, and I mean the actual downtown where all those skyscraping office buildings are. We live four blocks from a light rail station, and light rail is being touted as the be-all/end-all of public transportation in the Denver metro area. The public bus system here is solid enough that I use it every day for my work commute. (Good ol' reliable 1A.) We are at the epicenter of everything we could possibly need. Groceries, work, movies, parks, crack houses, schools, gyms, restaurants, are all within our grasp with or without a car. Maybe I'm oversimplifying. Maybe I'm talking crazy. Maybe I'm missing something. Fuck the car and all financial responsibilities that come with it. I'm through with it.

Now, to break the news to Sherry. I'll have to convince her that I'm not simply emotionally fired up at the recent turns of vehicular malfortune, that this isn't a passing fancy that will fizzle out once the bitter aftertaste fades, that I've completely thought this through from every angle… well, shit… I don't think I can even convince myself of all that.

Until I come to my senses: Fuck cars, I'm taking the bus!
...and so it was written, shenry at 2/20/2004 10:55:00 AM.
...and so it was appended with .