Old Yeller, She Ain't

Yesterday, dear readers, I received quite a surprise as my car refused to start. Wasn’t a battery issue, either. The car, she was dead. (Yep, the car’s a girl. Named her Claudia, after the character from Interview With The Vampire, they both have had their share of abuse.)

The good people of Goodyear were able to breathe new life into her courtesy of a fairly expensive starter, and now she’s running again.

A similar problem happened two years ago. Point of fact, the same problem. How I handled it, however, that’s a different story.

Two years ago, I flipped my lid. I was just effing furious, and there wasn’t a blessed thing I could do about it. Not a thing. Yesterday I was ticked off, but I remained calm. Because there was nothing I could do about it.

Then, I had no savings whatsoever and had to borrow money off my dad in order to pay for the repairs to Claudia. Yesterday I had enough saved over from the Pendemonium gig to take care of it, and then some. Granted, my savings have taken a hit, but the fact that I have savings for just such an emergency (or other things) feels good. Well, not good. But better than a trench of debt to refill con mi poppa.

Growing up? I hesitate to use the term, as there are plenty of people I know that won’t hesitate to remind me of my childishness in other arenas. But I have picked up a lesson or two in responsibility. So there’s that.

Course, if it happens again any time soon, I don’t think I’d be held responsible for taking the car out back and putting it out of my misery. There’s that, too. I’m just saying.