All I know is, you're supposed to press on the gas thingee and it's supposed to go forward.
It would seem to run in the family. I am, as it were, a donkey. Perhaps a donkey's bohonkus, even.
This morning, not even an hour ago, we got in the car to head over to Pumpkinhead's daycare. Everything was great, we sipped on orange juice and jammed out to "Don't Stop Believing" ("I don't wike to sing to this song, I just wike to wisten to it, but you can sing it," he said.) All was fine.
We got to the daycare in about 3 minutes (it's a mile from our house). I stopped the car and turned it off, and tried to pull out the keys, but they wouldn't budge. Figuring they were jammed or something, I tried to restart the car and go through the whole process again. The car would not start.
Squelching panic, I took the child inside and checked him in, returning to my car. Tried to start it again. No luck. Fully panicking now, I tried to call my husband. No answer. I texted him, "call me 911." I called my dad. No answer. Swallowing back tears of frustration at being stuck in the parking lot of a daycare, I called 411 and got Husband's work number. Called that.
"I'm sorry, I need to speak to (Husband) - it's an emergency!"
Two seconds and he was on the phone.
"Ohmygod the car won't start and I can't take the key out and it's broken and like the ignition switch or something is stuck and ohmygod what am I supposed to do - hold on one second -"
I put the car in "Park".
"Never mind, sorry. Everything's fine. Have a good day."
Re-effing-tarded, and I mean that in the truly developmentally delayed way, not some kind of insulting slur.
I am pretty sure they ought to not issue drivers' licenses to people like me.
At least I am cute. A cute Donkey's Bohonkus.
(the good news is, my car is not broken.)
This morning, not even an hour ago, we got in the car to head over to Pumpkinhead's daycare. Everything was great, we sipped on orange juice and jammed out to "Don't Stop Believing" ("I don't wike to sing to this song, I just wike to wisten to it, but you can sing it," he said.) All was fine.
We got to the daycare in about 3 minutes (it's a mile from our house). I stopped the car and turned it off, and tried to pull out the keys, but they wouldn't budge. Figuring they were jammed or something, I tried to restart the car and go through the whole process again. The car would not start.
Squelching panic, I took the child inside and checked him in, returning to my car. Tried to start it again. No luck. Fully panicking now, I tried to call my husband. No answer. I texted him, "call me 911." I called my dad. No answer. Swallowing back tears of frustration at being stuck in the parking lot of a daycare, I called 411 and got Husband's work number. Called that.
"I'm sorry, I need to speak to (Husband) - it's an emergency!"
Two seconds and he was on the phone.
"Ohmygod the car won't start and I can't take the key out and it's broken and like the ignition switch or something is stuck and ohmygod what am I supposed to do - hold on one second -"
I put the car in "Park".
"Never mind, sorry. Everything's fine. Have a good day."
Re-effing-tarded, and I mean that in the truly developmentally delayed way, not some kind of insulting slur.
I am pretty sure they ought to not issue drivers' licenses to people like me.
At least I am cute. A cute Donkey's Bohonkus.
(the good news is, my car is not broken.)
I used to drive a Saturn and would do that quite frequently when I drove it. =)
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Would it make you feel any better if I had to look up what a bohonkus was? I narrowed it down to 2 parts of a donkey' anatomy, but I had to rely on Google for a definite answer...
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Irate B, this totally does make me feel better! Also, I'm delighted that Urban Dictionary has embraced Bohonkus: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=bohonkus. Growing up, this is what my mom called it, and we decided when P-Head was of a certain age that we would use this terminology as well.
Fun times!
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I can't say anything negative -- I've done the same thing on at least four occasions. Trying to remove the key from the ignition and be like "DUDE! WTF?" -- Of course, each time I had forgotten to put it in Park, but always put my parking brake on. It usually happens when I get to my destination and am grooving out to a song (like "Don't Stop Believing") and I stop, and for some reason forget to put everything in park, but put my parking break on.
And, of course, there was the time I had a rental car and couldn't figure out how to turn the gosh-darned thing on....
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Been there, done that. No proof though. Reason number 627 why we're best friends. Glad I'm not alone!
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All the consolation remarks in the world fail to make me feel as good as this, Janie. You are clearly my indicator for whether I need a padded cell or not!!!
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So, do you hate me because my first thought was 'put it in park?'
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TJ, of course I don't hate you. As a matter of fact, every single guy to whom I have told this story interrupted me early on to suggest that it wasn't in park. This would appear to be a largely chick-oriented mistake.
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