Taking Responsibility
I go to the same gas station almost every morning for smokes. They know me. Today, I decided they should know me a little bit better. Up to this point, they thought I was an all right guy. They thought I was pretty capable, at least, in terms of being able to purchase cigarettes. They thought I knew the difference between the first pedal and the second.
They were wrong.
Now they know the putz I really am. I don't know why it is so hard for me to figure out, but today I thought the gas pedal and break pedal should be pushed at the same time in order to stop. That thought didn't work out too well. I was pulling into a parking spot in the neighboring grocery store lot. I went into panic mode and thought the car was broke. I thought how the hell am I suppose to get to work without brakes? I wonder if someone went under my car or in it while I was asleep and slashed the break line like you see them do so often in the movies. Someone wants me dead! Then, *CRASH*
Still in panic mode, I had the idea of fleeing. I backed up the car, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and started to pull out. Run, I thought. Get the hell out of here. It was just a little crunch and you only heard a little plastic break. It can't be too bad. They may not even notice. As I continued to pull out of the space, a new idea popped in my head. It was, you are being retarded.
I swung the car around to the front, went inside, told them I was a dufus, and had hit the white minivan outside. All of them standing around made a sour face and informed me I had hit Alex's car. Alex is the owner of the gas station. They went to get him.
I fought back the urge to remind him that I probably paid for that extension on his house that he's getting with all my gas and cigarette purchasing. I fought back the urge to tell him that I had told his mechanic that the break job he had done for me still resulted in squeaking. Still panic mode I suppose. None of this was his fault; it was me being brain dead again. I did tell him that it wasn't that bad as we walked to the car. Don't worry. I will pay for it. I'll be around, so just tell me how much it costs.
After seeing it, he told me everything is fine. It was just the plastic grill and left blinker that was broken. He said he'd replace it and let me know.
Today, I'm going to be walking around all day though still in panic and jittering my way through as if I drank 20 barrels of extra caffeinated super strength coffee. Driving is fun. It's an adventure.
They were wrong.
Now they know the putz I really am. I don't know why it is so hard for me to figure out, but today I thought the gas pedal and break pedal should be pushed at the same time in order to stop. That thought didn't work out too well. I was pulling into a parking spot in the neighboring grocery store lot. I went into panic mode and thought the car was broke. I thought how the hell am I suppose to get to work without brakes? I wonder if someone went under my car or in it while I was asleep and slashed the break line like you see them do so often in the movies. Someone wants me dead! Then, *CRASH*
Still in panic mode, I had the idea of fleeing. I backed up the car, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and started to pull out. Run, I thought. Get the hell out of here. It was just a little crunch and you only heard a little plastic break. It can't be too bad. They may not even notice. As I continued to pull out of the space, a new idea popped in my head. It was, you are being retarded.
I swung the car around to the front, went inside, told them I was a dufus, and had hit the white minivan outside. All of them standing around made a sour face and informed me I had hit Alex's car. Alex is the owner of the gas station. They went to get him.
I fought back the urge to remind him that I probably paid for that extension on his house that he's getting with all my gas and cigarette purchasing. I fought back the urge to tell him that I had told his mechanic that the break job he had done for me still resulted in squeaking. Still panic mode I suppose. None of this was his fault; it was me being brain dead again. I did tell him that it wasn't that bad as we walked to the car. Don't worry. I will pay for it. I'll be around, so just tell me how much it costs.
After seeing it, he told me everything is fine. It was just the plastic grill and left blinker that was broken. He said he'd replace it and let me know.
Today, I'm going to be walking around all day though still in panic and jittering my way through as if I drank 20 barrels of extra caffeinated super strength coffee. Driving is fun. It's an adventure.