hot rodding to workiez: a saga of speeding
this morning was crazy. i was running pretty late- i usually leave my flat round seven forty-five or seven fifty to get to work on time. this morning, the clock in the mozzer read "7:02" when i turned the key. as i backed out, i heard a dragging noise and promptly stopped the car. the source? oh, yes, of course my catalytic converter had become detached again. as late as i was running, i had to jack up my car, get under it, and reattach the catalytic converter. i actually jacked my car, fixed it, and lowered it in under five minutes. as i got onto route three forty, my low petrol indicator came on. i know that as long as the indicator is lit, that i am okay- after the petrol gets too low, the indicator turns off. as i neared the intersection of route fifty, the light turned off. i was forced to stop at the sheetz at the intersection. the islands were uncharacteristically empty- a rarity at that particular sheetz. i swung up to a pump, got a few dollars (so as to save time) of petrol and flew back out of the parking lot.
there was a white dodge caravan in front of me pulling out of sheetz- «fecking great, fecking mini-van» i thought to myself. this mini-van proceeded to shoot out of the parking lot like a silver bullet made by gary busey- i was shocked. i hauled arse out behind them. they were speeding up three-forty at terrible speeds- i know because my speedometre read seventy-five and they were still ahead of me. i wished that there was some way i could find out who the driver was, so i could thank them for not being slow. as we were both stuck at the light in berryville, i happened to notice a grafton magnet on the back of their hatch- we both hit eighty-five down seven and they flew down to the treatment centre, while i booked it up to the manor house.
somehow i made it to work on time- i clocked in a seven thirty-three; i'm not considered tardy until seven thirty-six. and so my sterling attendance continues. i will determine later who drives the white minivini and thank them personally. they made my day.
there was a white dodge caravan in front of me pulling out of sheetz- «fecking great, fecking mini-van» i thought to myself. this mini-van proceeded to shoot out of the parking lot like a silver bullet made by gary busey- i was shocked. i hauled arse out behind them. they were speeding up three-forty at terrible speeds- i know because my speedometre read seventy-five and they were still ahead of me. i wished that there was some way i could find out who the driver was, so i could thank them for not being slow. as we were both stuck at the light in berryville, i happened to notice a grafton magnet on the back of their hatch- we both hit eighty-five down seven and they flew down to the treatment centre, while i booked it up to the manor house.
somehow i made it to work on time- i clocked in a seven thirty-three; i'm not considered tardy until seven thirty-six. and so my sterling attendance continues. i will determine later who drives the white minivini and thank them personally. they made my day.