The moon don’t shine, it’s broken down.
The clouds are crying, they’re broken down.
The car won’t start, it’s broken down.
I get home and tell my momma that she is going to be needing to take me back to the parking lot to try and start the car. She agrees and we go after a while. It does not start. She brings me home.
I wake my dad. He tells me to call AAA. I do. They have great customer service. Tells me they will be out there at 12:08. I take my moms car back to the parking lot.
I get there. The car starts. I call AAA and tell them not to come. Hang up. Car turns off. Call back AAA. They’re back on their way.
I lonesomely sit and wait. I see the truck round the corner and get excited. He parks and jumps out of the car. Have you ever wondered what a midget looks like when full grown? Me neither. But I found out. He had the intoxicating smell of shit and whiskey.
He tries to start the car. “It won’t start,” he says.
No shit buddy, that’s why you’re here.
“We’ll have to tow it.”
Really dude? I just thought you were coming out here to hang out.
We push the car into position so that he can load it on the flatbed truck. He sat in the car while doing this. I got the pleasure of sitting in it after him. The stench was suffocating.
He calls his buddy. He thinks I can’t hear.
“Hey Mark, how do you hook up a Mercedes?”
Long pause. He fumbles around.
“This thing is fuckin’ confusing me!”
Maybe if you didn’t drink a pint of Jack and shit yourself on the way here things would be easier.
He finally gets it hooked. He offers me this excuse.
“Oh, this isn’t my normal truck ’cause I was going to Mariposa and I didn’t want my brakes to go out.”
What the fuck? Touché? I didn’t ask you to defend yourself, but thanks for confusing the shit out of me.
He starts to pull the car up the bed. I try not to watch. The way he handles the controls reminds me of a two-year-old child trying to work a DVD player. I’m wondering if the car is going to make it to my parents’ house alive. I am comforted by the fact that tow truck companies probably have good insurance.
He gets it on the bed, sort of, but not all the way.
“That’s the bad thing about loading the things front…” He fizzles out.
Again, what are you saying? I thought this was simple. You put the car on the truck, drive it to my place, take it off the truck, and shake my hand- end of transaction. Apparently there is some sort of science involved in this shit.
He asks me where we’re going. I give him directions to my parents’ house. He tells me we are going to go real slow and that I should follow him. I comply.
We drive about 15 miles an hour all the way to the house. The car looks pretty unstable the whole time. Just as we turn onto Browning into the neighborhood he gives me a call. Because we’re like BFF now. It makes sense- he probably wants to get directions for the rest of the way. Wait, nope. He just wants to chat.
“So yeah, I try to go slow with these nice cars. There’s really not enough straps for the Mercedes…”
I cut into his psycho babble and tell him that I’m going to pull around to show him where to park. He parks and slowly slides the car back to earth- I feel whole again.
We start to talk some superficial bull shit and I say, “Watch, it’ll probably start now.”
It does. We laugh and I drive back to my dwelling place.
Sweet sweet irony. How I love thee.