Well, I thought, at least it�s transportation. Given that I�d been hoofing it to and from work the past few weeks, and my own poor car was still hoisted up on a hydraulic lift somewhere, its innards dangling precariously from its afflicted chassis, I wasn�t in a position where I was going to be terribly picky when it came to a rental. But still. When my sight befell the small, white Ford Escort lurking in the corner of the lot, staring out sullenly at the world like a junkie in the middle of a crack house raid, I was given momentary pause.
The rental company awarded me temporary custody of this troubled vehicle, and I drove it off the lot with a mixture of relief (at having a car, finally) and trepidation (it�s on car heroin, after all). Although I know it�s only mine for about two weeks (I think -- Jos� from the body shop, why won�t you call me?), I�m still very uneasy whenever I get behind the wheel. It�s not that I expect to crash it, or that I�m afraid it�s going to break down -- well, not immediately, anyway -- but�I�m paranoid nonetheless.
Of course, I�ve recently come to the realization that I�m actually a very paranoid person. Like, not in the, "They�re all out to get me!" sense (though they may well be -- you never know), but in the sense that I�m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I always have this prickly anticipation of impending disaster, especially when it comes to bureaucrats, who force us every day to take on faith that they will keep their word�and then they screw us, but good. So my fear that, at the end of two weeks, I will send my bill for the rental car to the insurance company, and it will not be honored or reimbursed is quite justified, I think.
And that�s about the size of it, I guess. Meanwhile, I�m trying to make the best of the situation as I drive this tin can around town. It�s a testy little son of a bitch, too. Every time I tread on the gas pedal, it emits this fearsome growl, the likes of which I�ve heard before, but only at the zoo during feeding time, and only then when the grizzlies were really pissed off about something. I mean, it�s like driving a moose in heat, you know? Plus which, it takes forever to accelerate, during which time the engine complains loudly about its forced labor, like a spoiled child in the grocery store, until everyone in the vicinity has finally turned around to gape at you both.
Not to mention the fact that, as a rental, it�s not exactly a luxury auto. I mean, even if it weren�t a crappy Ford Escort (a discontinued model, I�d like to add), it would still suffer from the grievous lack of any and all finesse. Although, to be fair, I sort of specifically asked for a finesse-free car, in the lurking fear that anything outside of the most basic of basic rental cars would not be smiled upon by the insurance company�s claims division.
When you hear me coming, wave.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: "she only had one eye" And: what does dubya mean I�m Watching: Alias, after a brief period of wanting to shoot myself, having accidentally taped an hour of Trista and Ryan�s Wedding instead. Yeah, I know. I�m Reading: Don�t let�s start this again: look, until further notice, I�m reading Hard Eight.