Yesterday, on my way into work, I started feeling a vibration. As I was going through a construction zone, I thought maybe I was driving over hidden rumble strips or some such thing.
I was wrong. Within two minutes, the gentle hum of my car had turned into a growl that brings up images of nitrogen-helped cars and Fast and the Furious. I am not Vin Diesel.
So, for the remainder of my ride into work, and then back home, I had to endure the many stares and blatant laughter of my fellow commuters and the odd pedestrian on the street. Apparently my muffler had tanked out and taken all of my pride in my little Civic with it. Suddenly, I was embarrassed, if not ashamed to be driving such a crass car. It was like my Honda had farted in the middle of rush hour.
Consequently, I'm now sitting in the car dealership waiting for my new muffler and the opportunity to hand over $490 to cure my car's flatulence problem.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment