It never seems to fail – my car knows exactly when the worst time is to break down. It doesn’t seem to matter that I’ve treated her well. Even though I take her in for routine maintenance and fancy her up a bit she still knows how to make my life a miserable hell.
I think she does it on purpose. As a matter-of-fact, I know she does it to purposely aggravate me. What else can it be? Whenever things are going great and I have a big day planned she decides to go into one of her little depressions and activate her on and off again mechanical, bipolar condition.
If a machine can be cursed by two mutually repellent forces or diametrically opposed personalities than my car is the poster child for that scenario.
One day she’s happy and then the next day she’s like a raging bull racing up out of the fiery pits of hell.
Oh sure, today you decide to overheat on the highway or blow a tire on the way to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving dinner? It couldn’t be while I’m shopping at the grocery store which is right down the block from the repair shop where I usually take you?
But that’s typical. All cars are the same – it’s almost like they all belong to the same “Let’s make all the humans miserable auto club.”
I don’t care what any car mechanic says. Even when you treat your car right they conspire against you. It doesn’t matter if it’s a new car or an old car. And I don’t want to hear all that routine maintenance crap. I take my car in for routine maintenance and still it behaves like a malnourished, 6-month old with a bad case of colic.
And, it’s always at the most inopportune time – like when you’re driving to work for an important meeting, or you’re starting a new job. “Your car broke down on your first day to work? Sure, tell me another story!” The new and now old boss says to you on the phone.
Bipolar cars have a way of messing our lives up in more ways than one. They screw up our professional lives and our social lives as well. They seem to have a “sixth sense” of how to behave at the worst possible moment.
“Going down 200 miles to Philadelphia to your sister’s house for Christmas week today? No problem. Damn, there goes that serpentine belt that looked fine at the repair shop two weeks ago!”
Yes, you know what I mean, right?
Isn’t it weird how every time we come across a bit of extra money our cars decide that they are entitled to their share also? It’s like they can smell the extra greenbacks in our wallet or purse as soon as we get into the car.
“Damn, I smell new bills in his wallet, what part can I screw up and have him replace now?”
Bipolar cars are like little bratty kids that demand something when it is not a good time for them to be having them.
I once asked a psychiatrist friend of mine if it is possible for a car to be mechanically bipolar. He looked at me and laughed, then said, “That’s just dumb.” But then he did go on to explain how the color of our cars can say a few things about our personalities.
Thanks, buddy, but my personality is fine, it’s my car’s personality that is having a major meltdown.
I’m not even going to think about this article subconsciously the next time I get into my car. If my car can read my mind (and I think it can) it will surely take offense to what I’ve written about it and decide to punish me severely.
Oh well, maybe if I go out and buy it some new floor mats today it will forgive me and be happy?
Joseph E. Rathjen is a freelance writer and an Opinion Writer at 1World Online – America’s Fastest Growing Social Research Engine.