LOVING my Sony Digital Book!

I have been the proud owner of a Sony Digital book for about a month now and I absolutely love it! It has made me want to read all of the time and I am flying through books! On the Sony EBooks website, they were running a special on 9 books that could be downloaded for free, so I downloaded a few that sounded good. One was titled, The Idiot Girl and the Flaming Tantrum of Death. Obviously by the title, I wasn't sure quite what to expect, but I couldn't put it down! The author, Laurie Notaro, is hilarious and I was finished the book in a couple of days. The book is categorized as non-fiction, with the author sharing random stories of her life, but the way she writes about stuff is so funny! I found myself almost busting a gut at work! Not quite what you want to do when you are alone in a back office!!!

So, when I was finished reading the free book, I ventured onto the EBook store to check out other books by her. I just downloaded another book of hers titled, The Idiot Girls' Action-Adventure Club. This one is equally as funny, as I practically snorted water out of my nose today while waiting for my car to get new brakes! Here is a chapter that I couldn't help but relate to...and how fitting is it that I read this while sitting in a mechanics' garage?!

On the Road
I'll be brutally honest. I know nothing about my car. I know where the ashtray is and I know how to pump gas. That's it.
If you try to teach me how to change a tire, I'll forget. If you show me how to check the oil, I won't understand. If you change the adjustments on the driver's seat, it will take three weeks to figure out how to get them back. I'm just not that kind of car girl.
My friend, Kate, tried to help me by teaching me how to fill my tires up with air. I, of course, don't own a tire-pressure gauge, so she was particularly careful to show me the right way.
"You mean I just leave the hissing thing on the tire until the time runs out?" I asked quizzically.
"Absolutely not," she replied. "The tire will blow up on you."
"And take all the skin off my face?" I said nodding.
"No, no," she answered. "It will explode on the road when you're driving. Then just pull over and call AAA."
"No, I heard it's okay unless they blow up in your face," I informed her.
Kate knows these things, but I was pretty sure I had heard about the tire thing on 20/20. She knows when her fuel pump is about to go, when her carburetor is making funny noises, and when her transmission is about to drop out of the engine.
I, on the other hand, don't pay attention to funny noises. I just turn the radio up louder and pretend it's someone else's car.
I tried to be self-sufficient last week when I noticed that the tires were looking squishy again. I dropped the quarter in the air machine, counted to thirty on each tire, and figured I was done. They looked big, full, and ready to go. My face was intact. Kate would have been proud. It was Monday morning and I was heading down the freeway because Nordstrom's was having a shoe sale, and I had to be there first.
I was making the curve at the busiest portion of the freeway when I heard a terrible noise. A horrible, grinding sound that started at the front of my car and filled my ears. It was far too loud for the radio to drown out, no matter how high I turned it up. I knew right away what it was. 20/20 was wrong.
Kate was right. Tires do explode on the road, I thought.
I remembered her words and pulled onto the shoulder as hordes of cars whizzed by. I carefully got out to see which one was gone, but as I walked around the entire car, I was surprised to see that they all looked okay.
I got back in the car and started it again, convincing myself that it really had been someone else's car making the noise, not mine. I hit the gas, and immediately, the sound returned.
Oh Christ, I thought, what is it? What happens when your transmission drops out, the clutch goes bad, the fuel pump quits? I had no idea. I called AAA on my cell phone and told the operator that I needed help.
"Do you need a tow truck?" she asked.
"Maybe," I answered. "What happens with a bad transmission? I think that may be the problem."
"You won't be able to go into drive or reverse," she said.
"Okay. Then how about a bad clutch? I think that may be the problem," I mentioned.
"Do you drive a stick shift?" she responded.
"No. Okay, what about a fuel pump? I think that may be the problem," I said, panicking.
"I'm just going to send a truck, lady," she said.
"I'm just not a car kind of girl!" I pleaded as she hung up.
Ten minutes later, I jumped when someone knocked on the passenger window. It was a cop. I had forgotten to put my hazard lights on, mainly because I don't know where they are. I lowered the window. I know where that button is.
"Hi," I said quickly, "it's my fuel pump. Or transmission. Or carburetor. Or muffler. I think it's my muffler. I've called a tow truck, it will be here any minute."
"I don't think you'll need a tow truck, ma'am," he answered. "You ran over a gas can."
"Oh," I replied.
"How far did you drag that thing?" he asked. "I don't know how you didn't see it. It's as big as a TV! Do you have a jack?"
I hoped to God I did, and that he knew what it looked like.
I popped the trunk (I know where that button is, too) and helped the cop take out a couple of lamps, a box of books, and a pile of dirty clothes I had forgotten were in there. I was embarrassed when he found the jack, put it in place, jacked up the car, lay down on the ground, and then kicked the biggest gas can I had ever seen out from underneath my car, but not as embarrassed as when he got up just in time to see a big gust of wind from a passing truck rush toward me and blow my skirt all the way up to my chin.
"Your tow truck is here," he said, trying not to laugh.

The End (of this chapter!)