Or “I can’t believe I wasn’t raped, murdered and chopped into little bits last night or eaten by wild animals and victim of frostbite.”
My POV:
We’re driving and listening to the music and we’re about 70 miles east of Tallahassee, and carbuddy goes to slow down. I hear the transmission fall out of the car and go flying behind us on the highway. We make it about half a mile past where it happened, pulling over on the side of the road. This guy happens to pull over who saw what happened, and offered to give us a ride to Tallahassee 'cause he was headed to Fort Walton Beach. I’m sitting in the car while carbuddy’s freaking out and talking on the phone with her father. I call up southfloridabuddy and tell her that we’re delayed 'cause of this, and that I’ll call her when I get in. The guy doesn’t have a lot of space, so I had to leave my leftovers from Thanksgiving in carbuddy’s car 'cause it was the most expendable stuff we had with us that took up room. (It was going to be my meals for the next week, but I’ll figure out how to feed myself as cheaply as possible without it.) He drops us off at the Hilton Hotel on the edge of Tallahassee, and we ask the concierge to call us a cab 'cause there’s no way in hell Rich would’ve been able to find his way there from our dorm. As we’re standing in the lobby with all our belongings, we’re just grateful and giddy that nothing bad has happened since the car’s transmission decided to revolt in a blaze of glory on the highway. The cab only cost us $15, which was pretty good with how far out we were, and when we finally got home and got some of our shit unpacked, carbuddy came over and we gave each other a “thank goddess it’s over and we’re safe” hug.
My carbuddy’s POV:
i’m taking my car back to tallahassee with me and its fine…we’re fine.
70 miles outside of tallahassee i’m going a bit too fast and i take my foot off the gas to slow down, the transmission is too hot to downshift and falls out the back . yep, fell out of the car. in flames none the less as i see it roll out behind me. i’m smoking all over the place and i make it about a half a mile down the road onto the shoulder.
a nice man stops and we get a ride with him but he is moving as well and can only fit the necessities in his car meaning that i had to leave some stuff to get stolen in my car on the side of the road.
he takes us the 70 miles and drops Indigo and i at the hilton in tallahassee. all i’m thinking is, “i wonder if i can steal the jam off the tables without that guy at the counter seeing?” i want this fucking jam damnit. it will somehow make this fiasco so bearable.
took a taxi home from the hilton. its freezing here. i’m resick i think. french oral presentation tomorrow. wish me luck. i might start crying in front of the class.
i wanted that car here… i feel bad that i endangered Indigo’s life and made her journey awful. i want some of that fucking jam.
And of course we’re all safe, but it was just an odd predicament that we had the luck of someone helping us that wasn’t going to pull a Jeffrey Dahmer on us as soon as we got in the car with him. I just decided you guys needed a mildly interesting story. And just imagine, this is one of the high points of my Thanksgiving vacation. I really don’t want to get into the rest of it, but I’m glad to be back up here to busy myself for the next two weeks then come down again when things have calmed down.
-Indigo