I’m a pretty independent person. I moved myself into and out of college twice a year for 4 years (admittedly I had help for the other two). I put all of my flat pack furniture together with only a screwdriver. I always pay my own way and if I can’t afford something then I don’t want to buy or eat it. And I honestly think that the ‘shouting’ system can ruin friendships.
So when my beautiful car, my key to independence, broke down tonight you better believe that I was devastated. Not only have all of my close friends moved away and were unable to pick me up, but I was again reminded of the utility of a boyfriend. Granted, not everyone can have a mechanic for a boyfriend (if only I was my sister), but there would have been a bit of extra emotional support (the thought of my baby being injured was quite traumatic). And the extra muscle to help move the car away from the petrol bowser would have been very handy.
And so I sat in my car by the petrol pump waiting for a man in a yellow car to come and save me. Not exactly how I wanted to spend my Saturday night. And definitely not something well tolerated by such an independent control-freak such as myself.
But it all worked out in the end and my battery was replaced. It may have worked out quicker if a theoretical boyfriend had appeared with jumper cables and some much appreciate brawn. And it certainly would have been $400 cheaper. But my baby is working again and that is the most important thing. And thanks to swift roadside service I was actually still able to make my dinner at an amazing Italian restaurant.