My Epic Life Fail

In a perfect illustration of the direction my life is heading in, my car broke down on the way to work yesterday morning.  Before you all start feeling sorry for me though, the situation was totally not as bad as it could have been.  Three reasons:
1) My car is 15 years old.  The fact that this is the FIRST time it's broken down on the way to work is somewhat of an achievement.
2) I live and work in the same suburb - even if my car broke down 5 feet from my house, I'd still be able to make it to work in 20 minutes or less.
3) Having to get out and walk meant I felt totally justified in skipping that Monday evening spin cycle class at the gym.
...
SUCK IT, BLUEFIT!
The fact that there's actually nothing wrong with my car is also somewhat of a relief - the only reason it broke down was because I'd run out of petrol.  Yes, I am that idiot who runs out of petrol.  This would probably be more embarrassing for me if I wasn't already the kind of moron who doesn't even know how to turn her high-beams off.  (I don't even know how I managed to turn them on).  Plus, how many of you can say you've ridden in the front seat of a North Sydney tow-truck?  BECAUSE I HAVE!  The best part about opting to purchase a 3-door car that's almost as old as you are is that, somewhere down the line, it will always result in getting to ride in the front seat of a North Sydney tow-truck.  My favourite bit about the whole experience was the expression on Tow-Truck Guy's face when he pulled up next to my Barina.  It was like, So where am I taking this thing?  Your place or the wrecking yard?
Of course, Alex and I made a solid attempt to document the whole thing on our iPhones, but the insanely powerful flashing lights on the back of the truck made it kind of difficult to secure a clear picture.  They also alerted everyone in Lane Cove to the fact that I am a fucking dumbass.  I swear to god, it felt like I was living the last 15 minutes of E.T.

Tow-Truck Guy (to his credit) didn't make fun of me over the whole petrol thing at all.  Actually, once he got over the initial shock that I choose to drive a car from earlier than 1999, we got on pretty well.  He kept shouting out 'Barina' every time he completed a task.  He'd take the hand brake off - BARINA!  He'd wrap the chains around my front wheels - BARINA!  He'd start lifting the car up - BARINA!  I think he was mentally challenged or something.  That, or being in the tow-truck business for so many years eventually just turns your brain into mush.  He did tell us this awesome Dad joke:


Girls, if you ever decide to travel, remember - never fly Virgin.


Why?


Because they don't go all the way.


Zing!


So after we spent 10 minutes taking photos of this guy struggle to chain my car onto the back of his truck, we all hopped in the front seat together and drove down the road to a petrol station - which was packed with a group of 20-something-year-old guys waiting to fill up.  This is typical.  Of course the day I have to have my car TOWED to the petrol station, there are a thousand people waiting to witness my Epic Life Fail.  A thousand hot people, who are guys, and 20-something-years old, and hot.  I can't tell you how many times I've used that actual petrol station, and there's never anyone there to appreciate the fact that I am driving myself.  But the one time I'm not?



I am a magnet for embarrassing moments.