Thursday, February 13, 2014

Car Trouble

Driving on the road at only 40 mph, my windshield was struck by what I assumed at first was a giant fucking bat. It was about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, so it's understandable that after being hit by a bat that flapped my windshield once and then flew over my car that I immediately looked in my rear view mirror to see what the fuck a bat was doing flying about in the midday. Eyes on the road? Normally, yes. But there was a bat, obviously blind from the bright sun, and who knows if it was a vampire bat and ready to burst into flames at any moment.

The bat hit the car directly behind me. Before being whipped off, hitting the roof of the second car behind me, and then bouncing to the side of the road in the sidewalk gutter. It was while it was on the car behind me, flat on it's windshield, wings spread wide, that I realized something. It couldn't have been longer than a second, but I realized something that made time slow down.

That was not a bat. That was a giant mustache.

A friend had given me a car magnet. A decorative magnet you put on your car, not a magnet in the shape of a car (that would be weird, if it was a hot wheels car glued to a magnet and you could still put it on your actual car [do you have to glue the hot wheels car to the magnet? Or will it stick on it's own, because it's metal? Or is that matchbox cars? I don' know my toy cars {Or how magnets work}]) It was this two foot mustache that I slapped on the hood of my car to add some steampunk to my ride. (But anyone who saw it probably just assumed I was a hipster.) And that mustache had just ripped itself off of my car and attacked innocent bystanders.

As it bounced to the second car behind me, I PRAYED no one would get into an accident. (Which I've already disclosed, no one did get in one.) I prayed to gods I have never believed in, because while I've never read the fine print, I'm pretty sure my insurance policy does not cover mustaches. And when the longest second of my life ended, and the mustache fell into the gutter, I looked around for the police cars, waiting to be arrested for nearly killing 7 people (that's how many I assume were in the cars total..), but there were none. I thought, maybe I should go back, and retrieve the offending mustache, so as not to litter.

But then I said, "Fuck that," and continued to drive away.

Moral of the story: you need to check your car insurance, because there are ass holes like me on the road.

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