So it was not the best sound my engine could make. And the car really wasn't accelerating. Out of spite, perhaps, I drove to the University anyways to meet Mike in Metro. We sat there for a little while, playing with my mah-johngg tiles and talking about Prague. I decided to have my car towed to my mechanic, thinking that was safer than trying to drive it home. Mike offered to wait with me, and give me a lift. So all I had to do was call USAA for the tow truck. I didn't have the number because I'd forgotten to put it on my new insurance card. No big deal, I thought, I will just call my mom. I felt good because I was calm and thought I was handling it all so well.
What a fool I can be. My mother acted like I had asked her to drive downtown at rush hour to buy tickets to the opera. She yelled and was extremely antagonistic when I asked if she could call the tow truck and tell them where to go. I told her I had a ride home, everything else was fine. Not good enough. I hung up and went to the car with Mike, who followed me on the agonizing ride home. The sound of a car engine in pain is a terrible one indeed. Especially when you floor the gas and it only goes two miles faster. The highest I could get was 45 so it was a long trip through town to avoid the highway. I wanted to cry from the frustration but I held onto my self control. I thanked Mike by showing him my Soviet propoganda posters and sent him home. I called my mom to let her know I made it home safely and got yelled at again. She called my father for some reason and he yelled at me too. The only person who didn't yell at me on the phone was my mechanic.
So I will get up in the morning and summon the tow truck for my poor car. Walk to the bus stop and hopefully make it on time. I suppose I should try to study and try not to cry anymore. I truly don't know why I even bother getting upset anymore. So many things have gone wrong, what is one more?
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