Poorly Drawn Puppy

My love has school today for an hour.  We have a handful of places in that area we wanted to go, to partake of consumerism and the like, so I decided why the hell not go too.  An hour of quiet time to organize my thoughts, read and doodle doesn't sould like a half bad way to spend the time.  So, with my trusty bag of wonders in-hand and the taste of coffee still on my breath, away we went.  And here I am.

 

Just me, my thoughts, and my wonderful car Coelacanth.

 

 

 

 

Now, I say that without a lick of sarcasm in the mix.  She really is an absolutely wonderful car, and means the world to me.  My family found her for us right around when we got engaged, so she's been in our lives for a while now.  She always takes good care of us, never complains too much, is great on gas, and runs as if she just rolled off the lot yesterday.  I truly do love my sweet little Coelacanth to pieces.

 

 

That said, she does tend to have one hell of a personality.  She's a spicy girl, and can be demanding about her needs.  Sometimes, though, I could swear she's looking out for us.  If we try to take her into a situation she doesn't like, she'll damn well let us know.

 

 

"It's snowing out.  The roads are bad.  Twenty seems like a good speed to do.  What, you gonna try to push it? Twenty-five? Fine. Looks like we're just all gonna do whatever the hell we want, then.  Know what? I feel like going another direction than you want.  Yeah, we're just gonna go this way now. Uh oh, a snowbank. Gonna slow down? Drive like a not-idiot? ...Back to twenty.  Damn right.  That's more like it.    And next time, don't try me.  Bitch."

 

She's in her teenage years, so I guess it's only natural she be a bit edgy and rebellious.  

  

 

 

Today was one of her rebellious teenager days.

It's chilly out.  My circulation isn't the greatest, and tip-tapping away at the keys to verbally scribble these thoughts down isn't enough physical action to keep my hands warm.  I'm usually stubborn about waiting these things out without caving in and making the temperature comfier, 'cause there's no challenge quite like a totally pointless challenge, but my fingernails beginning to turn blue felt like a good reason to put that aside for a while.  They're generally not encouraged to do that, even if it does look kinda cool.

 

 

 

So, I pop my keys in to turn on the engine for a few.  Warm it up in here just a bit.  Giving Coelacanth the perfect opportunity to voice her displeasure with our not replacing her two crappy tires yet.  Her two fronts are cracked to hell and back, and have the not-slow-iest slow leaks I've ever seen.  We fill them up weekly, but they still manage to be flat more often than they should be.  (Thankfully at this point I've made her an appointment to get those replaced tomorrow morning, so she only has to put up with this one more day). 

She wants those new tires. She demands those new tires.  She's sick as hell of having to limp around on flat, wobbly sadness crap.  Her cries of displeasure, to her, must be heard 'round the world, til her foolish owner tends to this slight.  'Cause as soon as that key went in, she started screaming at the top of her lungs.

 

 

 

I've never heard her alarm go off for entering keys before.  I didn't know what the hell to do to turn it off, because she's yelling about her own damn keys.  It was kinda like an infant screaming at its own favourite toy ...what the hell do you use to quiet it down then?

 

 

 

 

I take my keys out.  BEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEP.   I try putting them back in. 
BEEEEEEEEEEEP.  YELLYELLYELL. CARNOISES.  In disbelief that this didn't do anything, I repeat it a few more times.  MORENOISEMORENOISEMORENOISE.  It never ends.  My ears are ringing, I'm flailing my keys about in frantic efforts to silence this one-car orchestra, frantically wondering if anyone's gonna think I'm trying to steal my own car and try to arrest me or some crap, and all I wanted to do was warm up a little.  Well, I'm plenty warm from all the arm-noodling panic now.  So I guess there's that.

Finally, at last, I manage to silence my car's temper tantrum by hopping out, locking the door and unlocking it again.  For whatever reason escapes me, this worked.  Whatever, at least it's quiet now, and I'm not chilly anymore.  Which is good, because now I'm hesitant to dare try my own keys to turn on the engine again. 

 

 

Such petty revenge, Coelacanth.  You're better than this.  Is this the level you really want to sink to?

As a humbled and defeated me flops back into my seat, I could've sworn that if cars were physically able to smirk like smug little asses, mine would have been doing it something fierce now.  Next time the engine starts, I could swear the sound was like laughter.  Mean little laughter.  You know what you did, Coelacanth, and I know you're not sorry.