Prince may have cursed the Camry

Theory: Every once in a while, your life needs to blow up.

My car may or may not have died tonight. It seems to be alive at the moment, but it may have suffered a serious palpitation or stroke or other serious event that signifies an impending death.

I was almost home. Less than a mile. Zooming along, singing along to my Prince CD.

YOU. I would DIE 4 U.

And the Camry answered. Without a sound or a warning. I stopped at a red light, and felt the brake pressure change. Everything jammed. The dash lit up: Battery light, Oil light, and Check Engine light. Hello, old friends. I’ve never seen you all at the same time.

On my good list: The AAA operators, the guy who came to tow my car to my house, and the state policeman who waited behind my car while I crossed the McGrath Highway to the local Burger King to use the restroom.

PEE. I would DIE 2 P.

Naughty list: The two women working at Burger King who decided to close 20 minutes early, and would not let me in to use the restroom. I wasn’t planning on ever buying a Whopper in this lifetime, but I must now cast bad juju at you and all of your establishments from this day forward. I hope the cattle rise up and trample all over your kingdom, fuckers. Thanks for nothing. May you be spend a lonely evening crying into your work smock, watching a cardboard crown circle a toilet bowl endlessly like a cheap metaphor for whatever dreams you may have had in this sad, finite life.

Not how I wanted my evening to go, but I’m at peace with it. Sometimes life needs to shake you up, challenge you. Whatever happens with the car, I’ll handle it. Life will be challenging, and then I’ll figure it out.