On my journey from school to Ireland, I have had some crazy things happen to me. I had to drive from LA to southern Illinois, and then get right back in the car so I could catch my flight to Ireland. But then this had to happen: my lovely little car died in the middle of Kentucky on my way to my sister-in-law and brother's house. I had a brief panic attack and made many frantic calls to my mother and other loved ones. I went through emotional stages similar to those who are dealing with grief. I guess I lost my control in that situation, and that’s why it felt similar.

Those stages I experienced went a little something like this:

1. Panic

Oh. That is not a good sound for my engine to be making. And now I can’t do more than 55 mph. Okay, I’ll just slow down-- nope. That didn’t work either, pulling over now and screaming for a minute. I need to call my mom, or call her like four times until she answers. When she does, I’ll just cry into the phone. That’s a good plan. I have roadside assistance, so I should be able to get a tow truck here. I wish I had more food in my car. Or a blanket. It’s too cold to sit here… just one more panic attack, then I think I’ll be okay.

2. Denial

Maybe my car is fine. I don’t know, maybe I’m just out of gas. I’ll just turn it off for a minute and try to start it back up again. Okay, that’s not a good noise either. Timing belt, maybe? I know my check engine light has been on, but maybe it’s just not handling the cold? I mean, it is 18 degrees outside. My poor little car can’t be liking the cold. That happens sometimes… cars do that… right? No? Okay... well, fine then.

3. Anger

This has to be happening right now, doesn’t it? On my way to Florida to catch a super important flight, and my car HAS TO DO THIS RIGHT NOW. COME ON. I really have to pee. Like really bad. My bladder may explode. I sure don’t hope so. I don’t want to pee at the side of the road, please don’t make me. It’s too cold out there… Okay, fine. I’ll pee outside, in the cold, LIKE A WILD ANIMAL.

At least I feel a bit better.

4. Bargaining

Okay, look Bill (that’s my cars name), I know I haven’t been the best to you. I’ve let your check engine light stay on for a few miles, but if you just make it a bit further, it’ll be all good. Come on, just like 40 more miles to my brother's, and then you can die. But not here, not on the side of the interstate. That’s all you have to do tonight. Then you can warm up in a nice garage, and I’ll even give you fresh oil. Would you like that?

5. Acceptance

I’m going to die here. This is it. My bladder is going to explode here and then I’ll freeze. That’s okay though, I lived a good life, I’ve had a good run, but this is it. Stranded on the I-24, this is where I end. Maybe I should write a will? Or at least tell my mom what to do with all my stuff. And to take care of my kitty. Oh boy…little Phoenix. I’m going to miss that little fluff…

Oh, hey, is that the tow truck? Cool, I guess I won’t end here, carry on everyone.