Freezing in half an hour intervals, in my opinion, is much better than running out of gas on the interstate, in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania.
Chapter Six
Another hour down and I’m in full panic mode.
“Are you serious?” I groan as I fiddle with my ignition. “You have got to be kidding me! You have got to be kidding me!”
Click.
Click.
Click.
Then there’s a soft humming.
Resting my head against my steering column I let out a frustrated sigh. I turn the ignition over again, listening to the soft clicking from somewhere inside of the engine. My damn car won’t start. Beautiful. Just beautiful. I assume that maybe my battery might be dead, but then again, I don’t know very much about cars in general. Turning on my interior light, I stretch my left arm, fingers shaking and pop what I think is my hood.
I’m trying my best not to let my emotions overwhelm me.
I’m trying with everything I have not to turn into a shrieking babbling mess.
In my head I keep chanting…
Keep calm.
Deep breaths.
There are hundreds of people surrounding you. If you need help, someone will help you.
I fling my seatbelt over my shoulder and open my door in a hurry. Tears swell in my eyes and I’m thinking, hoping, praying that I can figure out the root of the problem. I realize that that’s most likely not going to happen when I dash out onto the road and notice that I popped my trunk instead of my hood. I slam the trunk and with a few quick steps, I rush over to my door, locate the hood latch, slip my fingers underneath and pull up. I hear the faint popping noise and make my way to the front of the car.
Reaching underneath the hood, I try to lift it up, but there’s something underneath keeping me from doing so. There’s a metal thingy of some sort locking my hood and I can’t get
a good grasp on it to unlock it. Like I said before, because I know zip, zilch, nada about cars.
Damn it!
Damn it!
The chill in the air seeps through my clothes and I pump warmth into my arms as I turn and rest my back against the hood. Fear pumps through me and I begin to assume the worst. Traffic is going to start moving any minute. Just my luck. Then I’ll be stranded out here. I’ll never get home.
The tears start trickling down my cheek. My cheeks blaze with warmth. My nose runs and the sniffling begins. I take deep breaths to keep the sobs from creeping out of my throat, but it’s not working.
They slip…
Slide.
Crawl up my esophagus until I’m choking on them.
I lose my cool in situations where I don’t know what I’m doing. Or in situations where I don’t know how to fix what is broken. I am a fixer. I consider this a flaw more than anything because some things, some circumstances, and some situations are meant to be broken.
But…
My car doesn’t fall into any of those categories.
I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my coat, throw my head back and let out a long frustrated sigh. Springs of air curl from my mouth and I stare at them in a daze as they disappear into the night sky.
“Is there something wrong?”