My Car Just Did That.

Thursday: Scoop some snow, let hands thaw, drive to work and back without a hitch.
Friday: Get out of my parking space just fine, and return with a moody vehicle, unwilling to move into the parking space more than one foot. Doesn't really want to back out either. While this is all just fine and dandy, I realize that Cyride frequents my road, and there is no possible way they will be able get past my car. I make some calls for help, howl and the moon once or twice, light some flares, and return to my car to find Cyride halting their services in respect for my misbehaving car. Without a beat, our trusty Blue South driver picks up his microphone and says, "If any of you want to get to campus on time, we have to push this car out of the way." And as if I were the president in need of help, 6+ guys emerge from the bus and push my car into its rightful spot. Granted, the president would have some bodyguards and stuff to do that already, and he probably wouldn't be driving an '02 Dodge Neon, but that didn't make me feel any less important. I got Cyride to deboard in honor of my car. Don't I feel special.
Saturday: Bum some rides.
Sunday: Lazily study indoors as snow builds and solidifies with an ice topping around my car. Ignore consequences.
Monday: Return from work, briefly get stuck in the same position as Friday, and lightheartedly gather a couple stragglers to push my stubborn car back again.
Tuesday: Scrape car off, attempt to leave for work, but move a slight two feet backward. Feign indifference. Lauren offers her beast of an Explorer, and off to work I go. Car remains at home, butt sticking out into the road, baring her failures. Punishment remains until after my night exam, and car finally gets put in her place for good. Until Saturday.

Good to know my car takes after me: failure in its very purpose of existence.

And a shout out to all my wonderful friends who bless me with their time, labor, and vehicles.