For the
better part of a week, I was convinced my car was done for. Whenever I hit the
brakes, it made a weird sound and jiggled a little. Actually, now that I think
of it, it started doing that the week before. I vaguely remember my husband
saying something about some maintenance needing done and that he would have it
taken care of soon. Anyway, the jiggling and noise bugged me, and the rest of
the time, the car just felt…odd.
Each
time I got behind the wheel, I could feel the anxiety creep up my spine like a
spider. I drove to and from work each day, dreading each stoplight, cursing the
stop and go traffic on the interstate, and praying my faithful car would hold
itself together, at least until we got home. The weird thing was, the more
anxious I got, the stranger the car felt. Day by day, the tension rose as I
began to imagine all sorts of unpleasant situations.
