-=(Sagien)=-

It's a Conspiracy

I've gone all my life believing something to be true that I diligently make sure that this something doesn't happen.

Every other day, I take care of this task.

Every other day, $20.

What happens when you test a theory that you have started to believe to be a conspiracy?

I've been having a lot of trouble with my car lately.

For one reason or another, it is starting to reject any kind of liquid that you put into it.

Gallons and gallons of coolant have burned off into the atmosphere. It loves guzzling that sticky green stuff that looks like Gatorade. Mmmm. It loves fuming the clouds of white smoke generated from the burning coolant.

At the same time, I believe that my car thinks I need more excersize in my arms to build more strength. I don't know what it does with it, but it siphons away enough power steering fluid to feed a small nation in less time that it takes for wombat to fall in love, live with and get rejected/dumped by a girl. Needless to say, my arm muscles have been looking good lately.

At a slower pace, its been evaporating transmission fluid. Over the period of time that I have owned the car, it has drank alot of this kool-aid looking liquid. In fact, on the first night I had it out on the route, my car made it a point to let me know that it will be requiring this fluid on a regular basis. Halfway through my route, it refused to go into reverse. One does not appreciate the usefulness of the reverse function until they are stuck in some creepy driveway of an over-vegetated piece of land, on which sits an equally vegetated house. This is the type of house where you just wouldn't want to go in to investigate a human scream.

Despite all of that, my automobile continues to function. It functions quite well actually, despite the smoke it generates and the muscles I build just from making a K-turn. So imagine my surprise when it sputtered and rolled to a stop early this morning while we were on the route.

Luckily, she gave me enough inertia to roll her onto the shoulder. I checked everything that my baby liked to have. Coolant? Check. Tranny fluid? Check. Power Steering? Low, but it manages. So, what the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck?

I called my boss and he sent a car out to get me. I told the man when he arrived that everything seemed fine and the beast just wont turn over. He looked at me quizzically and he looked at my dashboard.

Now, the basis of this conspiracy is that I have never experienced what would happen when you run out of this vital ingredient in making an automobile run. My particular vehicle happened to not have any problems even when it's indicated that this stuff is gone. I was in denial when the man out to help me said:

"You're out of gas."

Posted by sagien at July 19, 2005 07:13 AM