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Date Posted：01/11/2019 12:37 AMCopy HTML
The car won't start and I am losing hope of ever getting it started. Why does it have to be so difficult? Other girl's cars start right away, why can't mine? Of course I know the answer. My car is old, very old and worse than that, it has a lot of miles on it. It burns oil and I am constantly adding a quart of oil. It runs hot all the time, the radiator threatening to boil over when I get in traffic. It needs a lot of work and I just can't afford it.
I leave it on the battery charger every night, but on cold mornings even the recharged battery doesn't last long. Sometimes even a jump start won't work. The tires are shot, the tread is nonexistent and I have to put air in them every chance I get. I hate to do all these maintenance things, everything is dirty and greasy and I frequently soil my clothes.
I'm not very attractive..., overweight, short, scraggly hair and glasses that are too big for my face, not to mention I am somewhat awkward. I never seem to have the right clothes on, too big, too small, too revealing. I can't manage spindly heels and prefer wedge heels. The fact is I don't get many offers of help when I have trouble with my car, even if I am blocking everything..., like now.
The day is hot and humid and the car smells of stale oil, old cigarettes and fumes from the exhaust, when it is running. I have given up trying to figure out what is wrong. I just keep trying to start it hoping for a miracle, pumping the accelerator frantically even though I suspect I am giving it too much gas because I can smell fresh gasoline. I hang my bare arm out the window a bra strap dangling off my shoulder, waving traffic to pass me while I am hugging the steering wheel, trying to keep my whole foot on the pedal desperately trying to coax the car to start.
The pedal squeaks as I pump it and the engine makes promising noises but refuses to start. Oh what is wrong with this thing? Why does it always do this to me? The noisy starter is beginning to slow. I’m running down the battery. I switch the key off and slouch back into the old leather seat, another smell mixing with everything else. It’s five o’clock and everybody is trying to get home, even me if I could get the car started. I’m in the middle of town and blocking the left lane. There are dozens of people on the sidewalk, crossing in front of my stalled car and yet nobody will help me.
At least people have stopped blowing their car horns at me and just make their way around my car. It’s been a few minutes so I decided to try to start the car again. I didn’t sit up and pull myself close to the wheel and had to stretch my leg to reach the gas pedal, my toe resting against the bottom of the pedal. My outstretched leg actually looks pretty good, thinner somehow. My short skirt reveals my shimmering nylons and garters at the top. I can’t pump the pedal hard enough with just my toe so I pull myself closer to the wheel. My skirt has pulled into my lap and I leave it there. Maybe that will attract someone’s attention. I pull my strap back onto my shoulder and concentrate on feeding gas into the already flooded engine.
Why do I even try? This car is just not going to start. Maybe I’m out of gas. The stupid gauge is never right. My dad has a small can of gas in the trunk because my mother is always running out. Maybe I should pour that into the tank. That might just work.
I wait for traffic to clear and then swing open the door and slide off the seat onto the road, but my skirt has caught on something and I am now standing in my nylons, garters and undergarments while I wrestle with my skirt. That got me a series of cat calls. Yes, I am naked, come help me with my car…. assholes! I try not to rip my skirt, but I can’t free it and finally climb back into the car and manage to release it. As long as I am back behind the wheel I try to start the car, but it just mocks me and refuses to start.
It just has to be out of gas. Once again I slide off the seat and get out of the car. The wind blows my long hair around my face and I gather it with my free hand as I try to open the trunk. The key won’t work, so I try another and another. This key doesn’t work either and now it’s stuck in the lock. I let my hair go and try to free it using both hands. The wind is getting stronger, whipping my hair into my face again and lifting my dress above my waist.
I finally free the key, but none of the keys will open the trunk. What am I going to do now? I search the street for a gas station, but there’s none in sight. Now I have no choice but to get the car started. I awkwardly climb behind the wheel, my legs dangling from beneath the dress. Okay, let’s get this thing going. I pull the choke out from the dashboard and start pumping the gas pedal… hard, trying to feed it as much gas as possible and then I hit the starter. It shows no sign of starting and the starter quickly slows. The battery is giving out.
Crap! Everything is going wrong. I run both hands through my hair in utter frustration. What am I going to do? I try again, it just has to start! I keep trying, but I’m not even getting a sputter out of the engine. Nothing! I guess I just have to leave the car where it is and go for help.
|batman449||Share to: #1|
Date Posted：01/11/2019 8:24 AMCopy HTML
Love big girls with car trouble 😉
|pedalpusher||Share to: #2|
Date Posted：01/11/2019 1:40 PMCopy HTML
Another well-written scene. You're style paints a vivid picture each and every time. It sounds like you've been in similar predicaments many times in real life, as have I. Great job and please post more. Thanks. Pedalpusher
|ppfan800||Share to: #3|
Date Posted：01/11/2019 5:44 PMCopy HTML
I was waiting for your story, loved it !