Mufflers

Yesterday, I arrived at the local college for my classes. I thought my car sounded a little louder than usual, but decided it was just my imagination. I will fully admit that I am a total hypochondriac when it comes to my car. If I smell something strange when I'm driving, I assume it must be my car. Even if there's no way that my car could possibly produce the same smell as a chicken processing plant. And don't get me started on strange sounds.

Here's my rationale: In a life that has few constants, my car is my stalwart companion. Always ready to head out on the open road, whether it's a trip to Target or a 2-day road trip. We've reached an understanding - I take it to the car doctor every 3000 miles and it runs like a dream - most of the time.

Well, last night, I finished my classes and headed into the mist and fog. (On a side note, I've decided that I can end the drought. I just need to drive to this campus and back home.) As I turned left out of the campus, I heard a troubling clank and thud. I'd driven over an uneven place in the road and thought that perhaps it had jarred the car. I accelerated and heard the stomach-clinching roar. I hadn't run over something. Something had broken loose.

I pulled into a KFC parking lot, under a streetlight and got out. I peered under the car and sure enough, the muffler had broken loose. It was still in tact, but the front wasn't attached to the car. Instead, it seemed to be resting on the back wheel axel. So, I did what anyone would do, I called my friend in New York. Now, I knew that she couldn't see the car, and I knew that she couldn't fix the car, but I figured I'd ask for her completely uninformed opinion and get her advice. (Refer to "Loosing a Tooth in Mississippi" for another example of this strategy.)

I described the problem, and my friend assured me that it would be "fine" to drive home. I decided that I'd blame her if things went awry. I also knew that I had AAA if something happened along the way. So, I roared off into the fog and mist. I roared all the way home. My decidedly conservative teaching clothes and mild folk music created a nice contrast to the roaring engine that should have been on a teenage boy's car. I considered buying a baseball hat and wearing it sideways, getting a couple of CDs with a pulsating bass beat, and saying "yo yo yo" and "boy-eee," but decided that I was more defiant as I was.

I made it home safely and am sitting at the car doctor. Hopefully, they can cure my car's cold and I can go back to being anonymous on the road.