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Paranoia with Cars

   

  There's a certain amount of paranoia that I consider to be “healthy”, such as being slightly nervous when walking in the city at night and seeing a suspiciously dressed man standing in a dimly lit alley looking directly at you. Or, being fearful of falling when standing close to an edge, a thousand feet up in the mountains. However, just as there is “healthy” paranoia, there is also very “unhealthy” paranoia. For me, all of my unhealthy paranoia revolves around my car.
     The worst case of this unhealthy paranoia stems from when I know – mainly from hearing or smelling – something on my car is awry, a sound or a smell that, ideally, I know shouldn't be present. This paranoia develops because the problem with my car always progresses, and it usually always leads to something expensive needing replacement. For example, my current car – a 2000 Chevy Camaro Z28 – would make a hideous clunking sound when driving over certain bumps. Any time this occurred, my face would contort into something equally hideous, because I knew the sound was malign, and was fearful of breaking down in an inconvenient place. Unsurprisingly, as I was driving one night, I rode over a bump, and, again, the metallic clunk – similar to Thor taking his hammer and welting the underside of the car – shattered the good mood of the car's occupants. I tried my best to ignore the sound, as it had happened a handful of times previously, and had resulted in no noticeable consequence. One minute later, an indented manhole cover delivered the knockout punch to my car. Another blow of Thor's hammer. This time, the thud was followed by a continual metallic slicing sound. My Camaro limped the final ¼ mile to its destination. I bolted out of it, and was greeted by a trail of differential oil exactly ¼ mile long, leading to the underside of my car, where an alarmingly large puddle had already accumulated. It was like Hansel and Gretel's trail of breadcrumbs.
     A quick glance under my car confirmed that it was the rear differential that blew, quite literally. The housing cover had a gruesome four-inch gash in it. Great. New rear end, anyone? Total cost to get the car back on the road consisted of a failed attempt at negotiating the towing price with the tow truck's foreign driver, and something north of $500 in repairs. However, the biggest problem was never fixed. My paranoia. Every time I am out on the road in my Z28, I find myself swerving at the slightest imperfection in the road, meaning that I am driving like a drunk since the road quality here is shit. Unfortunately, an encounter with either a ditch, bump, or indented manhole cover is inevitable, so I find myself bracing right before impact, my paranoia readying me for another clunking sound. It really is stressful. The good news is that I'm sure, like with all things, time will work its magic and heal me, but at the moment, I'm suffering quite badly.


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