Katie's car hates me. Sometimes it won't start when I turn the key. Sometimes it won't even let me stick the key in the door.
It can be quite contrary, just like Katie.
Like today when I unlocked the door with my key and the alarm went off. I quickly started the car, hoping that it would silence it . It didn't.
I frantically fingered through the owner's manual trying to find a solution to the blaring beeps that seemed to be never ending. I called Katie freaking out, yelling, trying to be heard over the din. She told me to start the car. I did that.
While talking to her, a nice British man offered to disconnect the battery for me to silence the racket. I quietly thanked him, but declined.
Seconds later, the alarm stopped. I sighed, and smiled. I got into the car and shut the door, only to be greeted by the alarm starting up again. I wanted to cry. Students were milling around, leaving class, some waiting for my parking spot.
I called Katie again and told her that she needed to find her way to campus with her clicker, the only thing I knew that would turn it off.
She borrowed our roommate's car and saved the day.
Long story short? I hate her car, and it hates me.
No comments:
Post a Comment