davey

This is going to sound crazy, I know. Really crazy.

The thing is, I'm starting to believe that my car possesses something of the divine. And I'm not saying that in the "I'm a car nerd and my car is so awesome" kind of way, because really, it's just average. The thing is, I think my car likes to catch me in lies and punish me for them. Flat tires, car accidents, and yesterday's inability to start have all coincided with shabby excuses and hidden truths. I swear it. Like this once, when I was lying about who I was with, and where, we were at a stop light, and wham! A man named John Connor in a Taurus had rear ended me. Sure, nothing happened, except that the plastic frame encasing my tag was broken, but the jolt... a warning, I'm sure. The car accident on prom night was a bit of a bad one, too. My car's damned moral conscience is out to get me. You'd think I'd have noticed this a long time ago. Well yeah, but it's so much clearer now. My car scares the shit out of me.

Go ahead and tell me I'm fucking psycho. I'm so serious though.