Saturday, August 22, 2009

The Toyota Conspiracy and I am Woman, The Sequel aka I am Woman and The Toyota Conspiracy, The Sequel

The precious little boxed bulb is extracted from my glove compartment with caution. I didn’t drop it at all. As a side note, I was not the one to take it out of the glove compartment. The girlfriend’s handy mechanic husband did. After all, I am good. I am woman. Hear me roar.

I peered intensely as he meticulously screwed it into its proper place. The lights worked again. It was a glorious moment in my formerly bleak existence. Am I good or what?

I drive off happily, able to see the road ahead, ever so peppy and accomplished.

I have a date the following evening. Could my life get any better? Well, yes, but I’m working on building suspense here. Bear with me. The date claimed to be tired, gave me a lukewarm peck and calling it a night before 9pm. But wait! I need not despair. He beckons me back, as I pull out of the parking space. He must have spontaneously realized how darn good I am. The man can’t possibly let me go so early. He wants to invite me in. I suppose I shouldn’t get my hopes up too much. He may just want a real kiss.

I open my window, nervous but excited about the prospects. He opens his mouth and informs: “Your light went on and flickered off. Just thought I should tell you.” “Thanks a lot dude. I’ll start writing a piece entitled 'Top 10 Signs The Dude's Just Not That Into You.' And I’ll get it fixed.” Disparaged and in-the-dark again, I take my debilitated car and ego home.

Another trip to Toyota next week. They don’t have the bulb and need to order it. Another trip to Toyota the following week. The Prius specialist relays, “We sold you the wrong bulb. There’s a price differential. This one costs $395.” Amidst gulps and tears (mine too), the Toyota mechanics install the proper bulb this time. At least, that’s what they told me again. This time they kindly cover the difference in price. After all, I am good.

The lights work. I’m not in the dark. Actually, I don’t dare ever turn the headlights on again, for fear of repeating this saga, especially the part with the date beckoning me back. Rather, I choose to remain in the dark. But if you close your eyes and listen carefully, dear reader, you might just hear me roar.

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