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be still my beating heart

August 19th, 2003

Oh god. I left work tonight at 8:40ish. I stopped at the gas station because I was really low on gas. Really low. 19.4 gallons in a 20 gallon tank! So I filled up the tank and got into the truck. I turned the key and buckled my seat belt. I released the break and grabbed the gear shift. About this time I am thinking to myself. “Hey, I thought I started the engine?” Ok, turn the car on. I don’t know how to write the sounds the engine made but the truck was trying it’s hardest to play like it was in a gangster rap video. “No! You foul filth filth foul thingie! If you don’t start — I’ll kill ya. If you break down — I’ll kill ya. If you cost me money — I’ll kill ya. If I have to postpone my vacation to England and seeing Cristina — I’ll kill ya! And if you don’t understand all this — I’ll kill ya!”

–skip calling of towing truck, pushing truck out of main part of gas station and thirty minutes of waiting–

Just for fun I tried to start it again and this time it started. Kinda. Ok, give it some gas when you start it. “Yes!” Boom, klunk, rattle! “No. Almost” It did start, it bucked a few more times. But I think it was just a really bad vapor lock. Good, good, good. “You can live!”

Oh yea, sorry to the tow truck driver. He called after I was almost home looking for me. But they did not give me a number when I called him for the tow. I’d feel bad, but, oh no wait he’ll get over it. I can’t afford to be towed.

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