Start The Car Or Get The Girl

, , , , , , | Friendly | December 5, 2018

(When I am eighteen it is deemed necessary for me to buy a car. I buy one from a neighbor that is over twenty years old, but in good enough shape to get me back and forth to college. The car won’t start after a long day at school. My school has a driver assistance program for simple fixes. I call them, and within fifteen minutes a van pulls up. He tries to jump the car, which doesn’t work. The battery isn’t dead, so I assume the starter is having problems. I resign myself to calling a tow truck. I walk to the main entrance to wait for him. When he arrives, the tow truck he has brought is far too large to make it to the top floor of the parking garage.)

Tow Driver: “This one is too big. I’ll call my partner to bring the smaller truck.”

(While he is doing that, I notice a very pretty female student, who has gotten a flat tire in front of the garage. I offer to help. She grabs the jack and spare tire from her trunk and I go to work. My tow truck driver is now standing on the bed of his truck, screaming directions angrily into his phone for the smaller tow truck driver. It is comical, and the pretty girl and I both have a laugh. It is then that I notice that one of her lugnuts is a wheel lock, and I will need the special tool to get it off. This tool is usually kept near the spare.)

Me: “Do you have the adaptor for your wheel lock? It should be in the trunk where the rest of this was.”

Pretty Girl: “Oh, yeah. I didn’t know what that was, so I didn’t grab it.”

(She tries to open her trunk but it is locked. She goes for the drivers door… which is also locked.)

Pretty Girl: “Oh, no! I locked my keys in the car.”

(Sure enough, all the doors are locked, and the keys are on the front seat.)

Pretty Girl: “I think I am just going to call my dad; he has my spare keys and will be able to fix the tire.”

Me: “Are you sure? I would be happy to wait with you until he gets here.”

Pretty Girl: “No, that’s all right. I think your ride is here, anyway.”

(Sure enough, the second tow truck had showed up, so the two drivers and I piled in and made our way to my car. The original driver asked for my keys, sat in the driver’s seat, and tried the ignition. Nothing. He then tried again, this time mashing the gas pedal to the floor a few times, causing the car to start up with a roar like I had never heard from this car. Having never driven an older car to this point, giving it a little gas had never even occurred to me. I was on my way home five minutes later. So, to sum up, I paid over $200 to have another grown man teach me how to start my car. It wasn’t until I was halfway home that I realized my other mistake: I had been assisting a very pretty damsel in distress, and I never even thought to ask for her number.)

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