Not so long ago, when I had just started a new job in a new town and had no idea how to find my way around, my glasses broke, and I took myself to the eye doctor.
After 20 minutes of driving I knew I was close, so I parked to get my bearings. That’s essential for me, considering I have no sense of direction.
The spot I chose was in the strip mall, next to one of those little decorative parking lot islands. You know the kind — they slap a tree and a couple of rocks in the middle of a parking lot, with a little curb around it. Well, I misjudged how far I needed to pull forward before I turned out of the parking space. My car rolled onto the curb. No big deal ordinarily, but then my car jostled and made the most horrifying crunching, scraping noise that you can think of.
Instantly, I stopped the car and put it in reverse. I touch the accelerator and the awful scraping noise repeated. But I was off the curb at least. My caution was extreme as I pulled forward some more. Did I have a flat? (Done that before.) Did I bend the rim? (Done that before, too.)
The car didn’t seem to be handling poorly, so I didn’t think so. That’s when I saw the great big ROCK placed in just the right place to produce that gut-wrenching sound. And as I drove, there was a new noise.
Great, I thought. I broke something essential on the underside of my car. Parking once more, I decided I’d just have to get out and look at the damage. I shut off the car. Oh no. Now I’m going to be stuck, and have to call someone to pick me up…
I got out, and closed the door behind me. Dad is going to be so sad. He just gave this car to me…it’s a brand new graduation present! It’s essential that I have a car. I’ll have to get into my savings to pay for the tow truck, and fix my car…ugh, WHY do I ever bother to leave the house? I rounded the front of the car and looked at it.
It wasn’t as bad as I expected, but it was certainly more obvious. A strip of mangled plastic that once bordered the passenger side door hung down to the ground. I dropped my purse and sat on the asphalt to take a closer look. My glasses fell apart again as I leaned over, so I snatched them away from my face and folded them into my purse. The question at hand — literally at hand, as I shifted the abused plastic a bit — was whether or not I could fix my car. The glasses would just have to wait.
Laying down on the ground, I tucked the purse beneath my head and examined the underside of my car more closely. There was a plastic bolt that would have held the piece up, but the piece had cracked at the hole, allowing the bolt to slip out. Could I slip it back in?
The answer was no, though I dirtied my hands and broke the cracked hole a little more thoroughly. However, after I’d done that, it fit excellently around the bolt. So, what is a girl to do, in that situation? Broken glasses, broken car, new town, no one around to help? The only thing a girl can do.
It’s essential, my friends.
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