Hot Flashes - The Smartest Car

It's much smarter than the Smart Car. I love the Smart Cars that tootle around using little gas and taking little space. I think they are charming, but worry about carrying objects like cat litter and anti-wrinkle cream from the grocery store.

I also worry about being on a major highway with them. It's like being the small fish in a pond of sharks with mean looking grills and seething windshields. But I have seen a smart car or two whizz past me like I was standing still.

The smartest car has extra sensory perception or ESP, Ejection of Saps to Poorhouse. I know that because I have one.

A friend also had one that he named "Friday." The car magically knew when payday was and promptly coughed, choked, died or whatever needed to suck up his entire paycheck to fix. His car made it home, but right after the check was deposited, it turned over and lay dead, wheels up.

My car is smarter yet and isn't fussy about what day of the week it is. It always has extra radar for the moment that my checkbook is empty. It is also especially tuned into my bragging that I have racked up many miles and it is doing fine. I once saw the side mirror cup a listening ear and perk up when I said something about how good it was. Then the grill smiled and the head lights rubbed their bulbs sneering about a plan to come after that no good hag who eats fast food and spills coffee on the dash.

It was a car-spiracy, for sure. But not right away. I had to wait until the next rain storm of cats and dogs pouring down in sheets to notice anything suspicious. A friend and I were braving the elements to pick up a pizza. I tried to make a left turn, but couldn't see through her steamy window. So I pressed the button for the passenger side to see, and the show was over in an instant. The window flew down with a thud, I tried then and there to fool with buttons and gismos. No dice.

We heard the window getter upper trying to work, but the invisible smartest car-spiracy was keeping it down. Rain was pouring in at a rate of two dogs and five cats per minute.

So we made it to my garage, she was soaked by then. She manned the cell phone for other arrangements and I tried everything with that ungrateful window. Graves of ancestors were spinning with each word I swore. I tried to fool it into thinking that it was down. Sideways. Up. I did hocus pocus and held my breath. I prayed to the car window fairy. Nothing. Only tee-hees from under the hood.

Naturally, these things always happen on a weekend when no one is available on regular time to fix anything. That was another part of the car-spiracy to get my goat.

Saturday a.m., however, a very nice auto glass guy was available for diagnosis. He got the window up manually and duct-taped it with a shoe horn gismo to keep it there. The part had to be ordered, of course. It was called a hag-ulator, whose only purpose in life is to ruin finances for a least a year. The part was manufactured only in Outer Mongolia. Or was it Madagascar?

"It might be pricey," he warned.

I looked over my shoulder and noticed that smiling grill and rubbing headlights. My checkbook was empty. Next time, I'll get a Smart Car with average intelligence.

Can you relate? If you would like to comment on Hot Flashes, Sue can be reached via E-mail at thewritehag@yahoo.com, or pa@pacc-news.com.

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