I think the Universe is telling me to buy a bus pass

I was out running errands this afternoon, making the most of my day off. As I guided Blue Betty * into the Target parking lot, I caught a whiff of some skanky burned-rubber type of smell through my open car windows. Since I was in pretty heavy traffic, I didn't think much of it.

I did my Target shopping, turned the car toward my last two stops, and got about halfway to my destination when the smell came back. It was worse this time. Jesus Christ, I thought, is that smell coming from me? As I coasted up to a red light, I glanced down to see if the check engine light was on, and it was. As I looked up from the dash again, a slight breeze wafted across the road, carrying with it a plume of foul gray smoke from under my hood. I have to say, there are few things more unnerving than driving a car that is actively producing a cloud of smoke.

I called MB and told him to meet me at the grocery a block away, then called my mom and said, "This is starting to look bad, but I swear it's not my fault."

I'll be driving MB's car tomorrow. If it breaks down, catches fire, or so much as gets a flat tire, I'm buying a fucking bicycle. I figure if three cars break down on me and I still don't get the message to get off the road, the Universe might have to resort to an asteroid strike, and that won't be good for anyone.