Dah checked out my gear shift tonight. “I’ve never heard of something like this happening and couldn’t imagine it from what you described, but it exactly like you said. It’s broken.”
Yep, I broke the car. I’ve had cars break down before, but not just break like this did. I’ve totalled cars, driven them to shit, scraped, dinged, dented. But this one is, simply put, just broken.
I tried to shift it into reverse to parallel park it behind my other car – fortunate enough a location for a car to break down of identity going to – and something in the gear shift snapped and wouldn’t engage in changing gears for me anymore. Broken.
My mom was in the front yard trimming the bushes, so when I knew I needed help, I asked her to go get the neighbor. She and Carl pushed the car to the curb while I steered.
Luckily, where I live there are no nighttime parking restrictions until winter. So it’s going to sit there a while I. I’m not sure whether to get it fixed, or junk it, it what. So broken.
Like a shoe where the sole’s come completely unglued, like a zipper that’s lost it’s essential mechanism. Dammit.
P.S. In better news, Dah picked me up at 6am and we spent the day trekking to the Lyons Ham Radio swap meet and hitting many rummage sales and thrift stores in between. It was a day of many free donuts. We had salad bar lunch at Gooseberries market and went out for burgers and macadamia nut custard at Kopp’s at sunset. I drove us around for a bit in Frankie, my other car.