You were coming home from work when it happened, your eyes tiredly watching the road as your headlights lit the path home. You were almost there, thankfully, but there were heavy rains in the forecast accompanied by thunder and lightning and, unfortunately, wind. The lightning hadn’t cast its fluorescent mast across the sky just yet, but the thunder rolling overhead let you know it was close.
You were low on gas and you told yourself that if you had to push this car, you’d just roll it into a ditch and walk the rest of the way. However, you never got that far. You were going well over the speed limit to beat the incoming storm and, as your passenger’s side tire connected with a particularly deep pot hole, you knew you had severely fucked up.
You were making a turn when you hit the pothole, the car’s tires turned and you felt the entire right side of the car jerk in a downward fashion and cursed yourself at the no doubt blown rotational-joint beneath the car, if not the snapped axle that would accompany it. The old crossover you drove jumped a bit and you pulled to the side as best you could, hearing the thunder boom louder as you turned your keys and pulled them from the ignition, heart racing at the possible damage.
Leaving your car, you went to inspect the right side and your heart dropped at the visible sag your vehicle now had. Maybe if things like this hadn’t been happening all week, you would’ve been able to handle this with a deep breath and a quick call to a towing company. However, things like this had been happening all week.
Your car being screwed to hell and back happened to be the shitty icing on this proverbial cake.
You took a deep breath, but your exhaustion of the week and your entire work day flooded your veins as you let out a painfully loud scream and began kicking the worn tires, fists balled up at your sides as your foot repeatedly met the black rubber. As you kicked, you heard the crack of lightning overhead and the dark clouds opened, dumping what felt like a Rubbermaid tub of frigid water upon you; well, it’s safe to say your scream was now drowned out.
You put your foot back on the ground, carefully went around to the driver’s side door, opened the car, and got your bag before slamming the door shut while locking your car. You looked up at the sky as you pulled your hood up, the rain soaking in so easily it felt like your bones were drenched. You began the fifteen-minute trudge home – which, granted, would’ve been fine if you hadn’t been splashed by a puddle and your neighbor’s car on the way there.