I drive an old car. It has been with me through high school and college. It has an

aftrey, just to give you some perspective.

That old Bronco has left me stranded on the road far too many times for me to remember,

and I would consistently exhaust all of the allowable towing that my insurance company

gave me every month. There was a hole on the footrest of the front passenger side, which

was funny, but also embarrassing, to drive around in. You could literally see under the car

and the street from it. So when I found out that I had to drive down from my mom's birthday

party, which was supposed to be a surprise my sisters put together. I was more nervous

than anything to make that long drive down the highway. I had made it this far, so I'd

had to be able to make it home. I just give myself enough time to pull over and shut off

the engine every few hours. To give myself even more time, I'd leave even earlier than

usual in the morning. That was a plan at least. But of course, on the night before that

I was supposed to make the six hour drive, I couldn't sleep. It was an excitement, or maybe

a little, excitement and fear that I wouldn't wake up on time. So I finally managed to sleep

around 3 a.m. and then kept waking up every half hour or so, since I planned to leave early

at 4 in the morning. Still, it was a huge fail. My alarm went off when I was already in

the kitchen making coffee, while trying to think of anything that I may have been forgetting.

Since I was also planning on hanging out with my family for the rest of the week, especially

since I was working from home anyway, all I needed was my laptop, cell phone, chargers

and my work papers. So I got in the cold seat of my car. The cushion of the seat squishing

the air out with the side that comes naturally out of old cars. I always prayed a little

before turning on the engine. Not for making it safely home or anything, but for the darn

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