Little Car

Today, as I was driving to dance class, my car started making a noise. I didn't like it. It sounded like a cross between crickets and nails being scratched across a blackboard, but quietly. It wasn't terribly loud, so I figured maybe it'd go away. I'd wait and see.

This is my general strategy for dealing with unexpected and odd automotive behavior. Pretend I don't notice it, and maybe it'll stop. It's similar to a popular strategy for dealing with pouting 3-year-olds.

It didn't stop. I began to reason with my car. "Now, little car, you are going to make mommy upset, and that's not nice." It didn't appear to care. "Little car," I pleaded, "I just took you to the mechanic a few months ago and spent hundreds of dollars on you. Besides, if I had to take you in, mommy would get lonely without you [not to mentioned bored, stuck in one place]." The chirping continued.

Then, Kathwump! we hit a bump in the road. The chirping stopped for good. The jolt had somehow "fixed" it. "Little car, you are teaching mommy bad things." The "just kick it and it will work again" theory has been largely acknowledged to be detrimental when applied to such entities as laptops and small children.