Anything Lime



Clutch, Pronounced “Life Ruiner to the Fullest Extent”

Tuesday seemed like any other evening when I bolt out my office door like a wild banshee away from the prison that is my cubicle. I hopped in my car, turned on my jams and made my way out of the parking lot and into the 5:00 traffic rush. There I was, belting out words along with the radio while neighboring drivers peered into my windows. I ignored most of the strange looks people gave me, even the driver of a little blue BMW who stared unrelentingly while I sang “Womanizer” at him. Then pointed. Then nodded.

I turned onto Lee Road, a busy four-lane traffic jam, and shifted from second to third gear, then third to fourth. Enter fourth gear. Any day now, fourth. Where are you, fourth gear? I must have lost it somewhere between “Boy don’t try to front,” and “I got your crazy,” but there’s no way to say for sure.

I coasted into the median to get my revving, non-shifting car out of traffic. I immediately called Patrick, then Volkswagen, then a tow truck. Yes, I realize how backwards my judgement was. Forgive my inability to think clearly, I was at that very moment a tiny little spec in a large, fast game of Frogger.

Patrick arrived to help ease my frustration, and he was able to push my car onto a side street during a break in traffic (See? FROGGER!). The tow truck arrived about 20 minutes later, and the wait wasn’t too bad aside from having a full bladder (which I emptied in the restroom of a nearby vet’s office where I met the most peculiar-looking dog. His toe hairs were so long it made his feet look like he was wearing an old fashioned pair of boat shoes. He had a significant underbite which protruded from his curly black face, and he pranced around with happy, springy steps. Hello?Stop reading this tangent and get back to the story!).

We got to VW and they took good care of me. And by good care I mean they accepted my payment in the form of human organs. Now I won’t tell you where I got them, but let’s just say there’s a good chance I won’t ever have liver disease. Or children.

My new clutch feels foreign to me. It’s as though I have spent my whole life lifting boulders and now I’ve switched to lifting pebbles. Though instead of feeling relieved that my life has been made easier, I instead lift the lighter load with incredible amounts of force, sending the pebbles flying through the air and my car screeching through mid-day traffic. This analogy would have been much funnier if instead of boulders vs. pebbles I had used fat chics vs. babies. Just a thought.

Although I enjoyed my temporary chauffeur service, I’m thankful this is all over – at least for now. I got a list of necessary car repairs that need to be made within the next year. So it’s unlikely that I’ll have both of my kidneys by the time I get married.

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