I was meeting my better half (Haha, not my legs, you silly! My wife!) at McDonald’s (for the ambience) when THIS happened. Yes, that is my van up on the hoist. I always feel sorry for vehicles being towed. It must be so humiliating for them especially when the other cars see them.
Car sentimentality aside, my van key had unexpectedly refused to turn in the ignition. I rocketed through the five psychological stages of such an occurrence: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Finally, my van being tugged offstage like a decrepit vaudevillian past his prime.
My van was rushed into the ER for, what turned out to be, a 5-hour surgery (@$150/hr for you math and/or schadenfreude aficionados). New keys, new tumblers, new spleen! Then I just handed over my wallet. As the nice lady shook my wallet over the cash register drawer, I emitted the low groan of the newly impoverished.
My van is no spring chicken, so I guess I should expect things to fail or drop off. Wow, they’re just like us! As the old Dangerfield line goes: I’ve got the perfect second vehicle. A tow truck.