i’ve never owned a bmw. i don’t know how to drive a stick. i’ve tried but it takes more concentrating than i feel comfortable with. i’m into not paying attention to what i’m doing behind the wheel. that’s why i went to look at a slick 80’s bmw convertible with automatic transmission at a car lot near my brother’s. i went to the wrong car lot.
the sales guy, dan, at the wrong car lot is a race-car fantastic. his lot features framed photos of every pace car of every indy 500 ever. he told me the car lot with the bmw is next door then asked what i wanted a car for. i told him about the trip. he asked if i had a minute to show me something.
dan showed me a 1992 honda accord with 35,000 miles. it belonged to an old lady. her son sold it with power of attorney, he was 75, she was old. the wrong-lot turned out to be the right lot. i bought it. it made sense: drive a super clean and cool old honda that won’t break down then flip it for what i paid after the trip. how was i so naive to think it wouldn’t deliver tension in the script?
thursday, march 1st, 5p
had a little routine maintenance done in la.
monday, march 5th, 4p
blow out near joshua tree. repair shop in blythe, ca replaces tires and master cylinder.
tuesday, march 6th, 12a
car won’t start in roswell, nm. when tow truck arrives car starts. i go to fill up and it doesn’t start. local mechanic takes me to get starter fluid: i spray it in a hose under the hood and it works. i do this myself: im working on my car
thursday, march 8th, 11a
car won’t start at rest stop near winnie, texas. starter fluid is useless. my roadside assistant told tow i was in a different place with a different car. took tow two hours to find me and i was scared cause of the scariest sign. guy at auto parts store 10 miles away helps replace fuel filter. car works. i spend the night in baton rouge and try to get hooker to no avail.
friday, march 9th, 3p i. don’t. need. this shit.
car dies while driving towards busy interchange near hammond, la. im in a bad spot 50 yards from worse spot and im dressed like an asshole in seagreen.
the tow driver was awesome. he was alive with energy and charisma and would answer questions by repeating question with the the kind of delivery that said it all, which usually meant angrier and louder. said i’m his funniest customer all month. he’s honest. so cool but i can’t write too much about him cause then this would be a good post and i need it to elicit the feelings i was going through which might be similar to how you feel if you’ve read this far: fuck this blog. fuck this car. fuck this trip. i should just cut losses and light the car on fire. would be a great video
the car taken to a honda dealership in covington, la. the guy at the dealership says they’ll take a look at it in a few minutes. i hope they know what it is. they don’t. i’ll have to stay in covington for the night. the next morning i get a call: they don’t know what’s wrong. they won’t get to the car until monday.
covington, la is 42 miles from new orleans on the other side of the lake pontchartrain causeway. both of the city’s car rental places were out of cars. there’s no trains, no busses, no shuttles, basically no way of getting to new orleans aside from hitchhiking and i can’t do that cause of the last time i was in louisiana… yeah…
monday, march 11th, 10a
the car is fixed. it cost me so many shrimp cocktails. a genocide of shrimp. there’s a reason all this happened. i dunno why and i didn’t proofread any of this, fuck this post
listening to primitive radio god’s standing outside a broken phone booth with money in my hand (1996)
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