flightless hag

A chronicle of the adventures of birdwoman: a lonely, talentless freak who wanders the internet in search of entertainment.

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Location: Philly

I'm a 40-something married white female, survivor of weight watchers, avid reader of pulp. Dogs (not cats), extreme right (handed, not politics), ENTJ, alto, wanna-be knitter.

July 07, 2006

Why I Hate Cars

First, it was an ornery ox censor.

Then it was
bad cats.

Now, it’s a car gone MAD. Mad, I tell you.

The fuel gauge reads full, or almost full, slowly descending to ½ tank, until about 9 gallons are consumed. Then all hell breaks loose. The fuel gauge drops to empty, the check engine light comes on, and there are still like 4 gallons in the tank.

The first time this happened, I was flying down the turnpike (at a legal 65 MPH, I swear, officer) and it scared the Shiite out of me.

My car is 6 years old and it’s like Outback Behaving Badly. Maybe it just wants a vacation. What do you think?




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