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My dad's car is fucked up. When it's idling, the engine is revved up like nobody's business; the brakes are hard to use; and if you lift your foot off the brake, it'll go over 40 without any use of the gas. And the bastard blames me, since I used it most of last night.
Nothing happened while I drove it. I picked him up and dropped him off at bowling, then at his rehearsal, then went to youth group and went home early because I was tired. And it didn't act like that, and nothing happened to make me think something was wrong. If there had been anything wrong, I would have had Barbie give me a ride home and called Dad from there. After asking me five times if I ran into a snowbank, saying stuff like "It's okay if you did, I won't be mad, I just want to know why the car is acting like that", he finally looks at me and says, "Okaay..." He claims to believe me, but it's obvious he thinks it's my fault. Thanks, Dad. Love you too.
Nothing happened while I drove it. I picked him up and dropped him off at bowling, then at his rehearsal, then went to youth group and went home early because I was tired. And it didn't act like that, and nothing happened to make me think something was wrong. If there had been anything wrong, I would have had Barbie give me a ride home and called Dad from there. After asking me five times if I ran into a snowbank, saying stuff like "It's okay if you did, I won't be mad, I just want to know why the car is acting like that", he finally looks at me and says, "Okaay..." He claims to believe me, but it's obvious he thinks it's my fault. Thanks, Dad. Love you too.
