an over-exaggerated story.

2 Jul
We all have things that we’re afraid of and things that we dread happening.  Tragedy strikes unexpectedly and bad things do happen to good people.  We don’t have answers why, but often only more questions.
I realized one of my greatest [over-exaggerated] fears yesterday.  There I was.  Sitting in the non-air conditioned lobby of a ten-minute oil change business, filled with the odor of oil and the slow hustle of the greasy employees.  Sprocket [my car.  full name: Sprocket Automatron.  thanks for that, Sara.] was overdue for an oil change so I finally set my mind to drive to Janesville and get it done.  [after coaxing myself that a. I really needed to drop off a fedex package too and b. I could then see what was on sale at Joann’s.]  
I pulled Sprocket in at the awkward hand directions of an employee and left her to his whim as I took a chair and turned on my kindle.  [Jane Austen kick continues.  Northanger Abbey is the current read.]  As I sat reading, an employee approached the woman next to me and began listing off all the things that are “wrong” with her vehicle, the urgency of the repairs, and costs involved.
My breath shortened.  I found myself unable to read anymore.  I likely stared awkwardly at the exchange between the woman and the technician.  The technician – oh the nerve – even brought with him the air filter from her car to show the dirt and grime that had built up.
I started to bite my fingernails, waiting for when it would be my turn to speak with the technician about the state of Sprocket.  When situations like that occur, it makes me feel a couple different ways.  First, I feel like I’m a poor car owner who doesn’t care properly for my Sprocket.  I want to care for Sprocket in the best ways I can and when someone tells me that things are wrong, I let Sprocket down.  I let myself down.  Second, I feel like the technician calling me out in front of all the other people in the waiting area is unnecessary.  They don’t need to know my car’s mechanical diagnosis.  I wish they would pull me aside.  Third, I don’t have a job.  I can’t pay for extensive work or improvements, and when they tell me that such things are needed, it hits me hard knowing that I can’t provide easily for my Sprocket.
One of my greatest [over-exaggerated] fears may have been realized yesterday but it did not become reality.  Sprocket got through the appointment and oil transfusion nicely.  I felt like a proud car owner when the technician told me that the car seems to be in great working order.  I drove home sitting a little higher [literally – I adjusted my seat] yesterday, knowing that all is well with Sprocket for the time being.

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