Ticket
The Great Spirit or whatever “powers that be” must have decided that I wasn’t supposed to leave the house this morning.
My dads cadillac is broken down, so I attempted to drive my bronco down to Baltimore for the board meeting at the Grove. Braving the tyrant of gas prices in my gas glutton of a vehicle.
As an Easter gift, a state trooper decided to pull me over and give me a ticket for not having my seatbelt on. No points (how nice), but I couldn’t find my vehicle registration, so he decided to be extra giving with a fine for that. What’s worse is I found the vehicle registration like half an hour later poking out of my ashtray with a mischevious little smirk on its face like it was playing game of hide and seek right out in the fucking open. And since I don’t smoke and never use the ashtray, of course I wouldn’t look there.
But I was determined to make the board meeting, so I start trucking it down 795 slowly but surely. But that would be too easy. My bronco starts stuttering. Not just your random stutter…but the kind of stutter that’s like coughing up a hairball the size of cuba, stutter.
So I call the Grove and tell them there’s just no way I can make it unless it’s on foot. Hopefully they’ll postpone the meeting.
Man today would have been a nice time to have my mustang.
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