The grinding sound coming from my beloved Rexy was unsettling. It didn't really truly bother me, though, until a guest sat in the passenger's seat and I suddenly realized that I was putting not only mine, but my friend's life at stake as well. Since playing risk with a friend's life--not to mention my own--isn't high on my list of hobbies, I begrudgingly dragged myself and my car into the shop on my day off.
After an hour of pretending to read in the unsettlingly clean waiting room while really just sitting on pins and needles, the diagnosis came in: the brake pads were completely gone. The grinding I heard was because metal was hitting metal because the pads had kissed this world goodbye. Oops. No wonder the sound was so anerving.
The diagnosis wasn't good. The dent it's putting into my savings account? Even worse.
While I'm grateful to have a savings account to use in emergencies such as these, I hate doing it. It's not a big account to begin with, so dipping into it is painful. I hate having to put money into my car. I love my Rexy, but he's old. By all accounts I really need a new car. But I can't afford one. The money I should be saving for a new one is now going into my car now. It's a vicious cycle. And it's very frustrating.
In a moment of vexation, while talking with Joe after the diagnosis was made I declared that I'd sleep with a rich guy if I was guaranteed a million dollars. While that's just slightly dramatic, even for me, what I need is to be a kept woman; to have a benefactor feed me money simply for me being fabulous. I couldn't ever bring myself to whore it up in order to get a Cadillac, but if someone were to just give me money simply because I'm cute or funny or whatever, I wouldn't have a problem with that. But I'm not stupid, I know that's not how the real world works. In the real world, brake pads wear out and savings need to be dipped into because of emergencies. But Joe reminded me that it's a small price to pay to be alive. Touche', my friend.
The world will keep turning during and after this tiny tragedy of mine. And at least I'll get a safer, quieter Rexy out of it. And maybe, just maybe, I'll breathe easy when I step on the brakes.
Ciao, dahling!
~*Krissy*~