Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Honda 2, Humans 0
My car likes to play pranks on me. It's a 91 Honda Prelude--a little boxy number with a manual transmission. And if I could go back in time to 1990 and have a word with the designers, I would point them towards the sunroof.
During a particularly heavy rain, water will leak through the sunroof and pool in the lip that holds the roof's cover. There it will sit and cool to approximately 33 degrees (or 1 degree Celsius) and wait, patiently, for me to back out of my parking space. Once the car has been tilted slightly, it will dump icy water on either my head and neck or in my lap.
It rained particularly hard last night, so I'm sopping wet.
This has only happened to me twice in the three months I've owned the car, but I nonetheless find myself starting the engine with trepidation after even a moderate shower. My car is waging a psychological war on me. And winning!
If I didn't absolutely need it to get to work I'd kick it to the curb. Honest. But for now, I will plan its comeuppance. Your day will come, 91 Prelude SE, your day will come. (Insert evil laughter here).
During a particularly heavy rain, water will leak through the sunroof and pool in the lip that holds the roof's cover. There it will sit and cool to approximately 33 degrees (or 1 degree Celsius) and wait, patiently, for me to back out of my parking space. Once the car has been tilted slightly, it will dump icy water on either my head and neck or in my lap.
It rained particularly hard last night, so I'm sopping wet.
This has only happened to me twice in the three months I've owned the car, but I nonetheless find myself starting the engine with trepidation after even a moderate shower. My car is waging a psychological war on me. And winning!
If I didn't absolutely need it to get to work I'd kick it to the curb. Honest. But for now, I will plan its comeuppance. Your day will come, 91 Prelude SE, your day will come. (Insert evil laughter here).
Labels: humor
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