So today my car tried to kill me. No joke. I was driving across this bridge on the interstate, when my accelerator dropped to the floor of its own accord, and refused to come back up in spite of my coaxing. You might think this was bad, which it was, but things got worse when I tried to put on the brakes only to find that the brake pedal had become about as pliable as Washington’s nose on Mount Rushmore. Needless to say this caused me some level of distess. Also to top it all off my radio wouldn’t work so I couldn’t listen to the classical music CD I had bought the week before at Wal-Mart (This is 100% true. No I can’t tell you why I thought classical music would be a good idea at a time like this.) Anyway I managed to
get off the bridge by shifting in and out of neutral, letting the car coast for a while, and then letting racing engine have its way once more. Once off the bridge I switched the engine off completely and coasted as far as I could in neutral.
To make a long story short, my car is in the shop, and I still have no idea what went wrong. I can tell you that getting through an experience like that will give you a definite adrenaline buzz, although if you’re looking for a high, I’m guessing that drugs are probably safer.
So yes, the moral of today’s blog is: “Do drugs. Live longer. True story.”
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