A week ago my car broke down. I was driving into town and the tire went flat which then caused irreparable damage to the rim. The rim was a special rim for that year, make, and model (of course! Why wouldn’t it be?), so replacing it will take a few weeks. This is just another example in a long line of reasons of how poor of a choice I made when I bought that car early last year.
Luckily, my parents are out of town, which made my dad’s 1999 Chevrolet Tracker available. My father has always been there and this is yet another example of him helping out. I’m a very grateful son, but with him being away he tends to allow his thoughts to get the better of his reasoning. Although he’s fine with his Tracker being borrowed, he’s still concerned about it’s condition. I get the impression that he thinks he has let a Nineties teenage version of me use his car and is worried that I am “burning it up”.
The following is an actual text exchange between my mother and I regarding my dad’s car. I will preface this by saying that I have no idea why he didn’t text me himself (perhaps he was driving or maybe my mother has become his scribe) but – either way – the following is the conversation we had:
At this time I have not received a reply. They have either driven off the road due to laughter or have decided to drive to Flagstaff to retrieve the Tracker.
I hope it’s neither.