My Hyundai recently broke, as Hyundais are wont to do.
Admittedly, mine is not a spectacular vehicle. It cannot accelerate or slow itself with any haste; it is neither shiny nor safe. Inside, it is formless and beige, like a foreclosed condominium. The display on the radio doesn’t work anymore and the A/C has become only minimally responsive. At this point, the car is probably better suited for transporting condemned prisoners to the place of their execution than getting me to work. The fact that I, a handsome, occasionally friendly man with full-time job and a full-grown beard am forced to drive it is yet another grave injustice of our capitalist system.
The most recent and serious breakdown of my Hyundai involved the lock on the driver’s side door, which became jammed shut. Thus, the cockpit seat was accessable only by getting in the passenger-side door and lumbering awkwardly over to the driver’s side. This feat was made more difficult by the fact that I am a 6’5″ man and the Sonata is a vehicle designed by the best and brightest modestly-sized engineers of Korea.
After several failed attempts to make the passage, I eventually figured out that a feet-first attempt was my only real shot at making it to the driver’s seat. So up and over I went: first swinging my feet and legs over to the driver’s side, then raising my hips and sending them clumsily over the raised arm rest with a strained grunt and stifled profanity. The final step was to wildly lurch my upper body from one side of the cabin to the other without dragging my head along the roof or wrenching my back. It was not one of the more refined, sophisticated moments of my life.
I ended up having to drive the car in this state for two days before it could get fixed. At one point, after running a quick errand I returned to my parking spot to see that my broken Hyundai was now closely surrounded on both sides with other cars whose drivers were sitting right there in their respective driver’s seats for some reason or another. Swallowing hard, I avoided eye contact and tried to move from the passenger door to my driver’s seat as confidently and smoothly as possible. Later, while veering wildly out of the parking lot, I realized that in my embarassed rush I’d managed to somehow rip the sole from one of my shoes halfway off while positioning myself.
In summary, my Hyundai humiliates me and destroys my shoes. If there were any justice in this world, I would be allowed to send it over Niagra Falls without the EPA getting in my business.