After spending a 13-hour day at work, my Absolute Most Favorite Thing in the World™ is to go down into the bowels of the building I work in, seek out my car in the empty garage, open her up (yes, my car is a she), put the key in the ignition, turn it, have all the lights come on but have nothing else happen. It’s the driver’s equivalent to a woman asking a guy, “Is it in yet?”
Thankfully, at 11:30pm on a Tuesday night, the tow companies don’t have much to do, so AAA was able to summon someone to my aid within like 5 minutes. Seriously. I got off the phone with them, went outside and wandered up to the security guards keeping a close watch on our garage entrance to let them know AAA was coming, and I managed to say the words “my car’s in the garage and it won’t start, so AAA is coming” when the guy pointed behind me and said, “There they are.” It was amazing.
A quick jump and I was on my way. (Construe that however you please.) Sadly, I have to get a new battery and may need another jumpstart in the morning, but I also had to keep the car running for at least 40 minutes, so I took the long way home… the really long way home. At least I once again proved my theory that no matter what kind of a high-performance car you drive, what matters most is the driver’s skill—while whipping around curves on Sunset Boulevard at somewhere upwards of 50 mph, a Porsche challenged me and my little Honda Civic… and lost.