2000-10-07 - 05:26:31
I keep thinking about this...
I hate Chevy Camaros, cuz the boyfriend I had when I was 18 had one.
He had a lot of stupid stuff that I didn't like, though.
He collected or developed this really fucking stupid medieval scene that was all made of metal and totally miniature. The castle or whatever was like a couple feet high, but, all the people were like these tiny ass miniature, inch and a half tall things. So stupid. Anyway, he thought it was cool and he made this ridiculous landscape that took about ten feet by eight feet of space, so there was no dining room in his mother's house.
I moved in with him way too quickly. Him and his mom.
He was abusive.
It was a disaster.
Anyway, the Camaro, I will never forget meant more than anything to him. Even more than me. It almost killed me once.
He was a crackhead. So, when the reverse went out on the gearshift, he never bothered to get money together to fix it. Well, I was irritated about something or other, and I was waiting for him to hurry the hell up and come out to the garage and get in the car so we could leave. Well, I pushed on the hood, cuz it was forever stuck in drive, and I don't really know why I did it...I just did, because it was something I had to do anyway, was push it so we could roll backwards down the driveway and then circle through the lawn to get out on to the road. I remember it like it was yesterday. Yuck.
So, I leaned on it, not expecting I was strong enough to budge it at all and the fucking thing started rolling out of the garage and down the frigging driveway. They lived on a fairly busy road, so, you can imagine why I started to panic. So, for some reason, I didn't try to jump into the driver's seat to stop it, because I didn't think I would be quick enough...instead, I decided I should run around to the back to stop it, well it was a good thing I never made it back there in time, I would have gotten squashed. The reason I didn't make it back there, was because, the back left tire ran over my foot. I thought it was going to break. I just stared when it rolled into the road, hoping I wouldn't get into too much trouble. I ran back into the house and told him what happened, but, acted like I hadn't really touched it. We finally left after that...
But, the real reason why I hate them so damn much, was that shortly after that happened, I got pregnant. I considered keeping the baby, because I always thought a baby would be kind of neat. That's how I thought at that age. I had no idea what it entailed. Eventually after he proved how rude, abusive and what a dick he could be, I decided to have an abortion. I scheduled it. I asked him to go with me, he said yes. We were going to take his mom's van, and she was going to take the Camaro to work.
Well, the Camaro got a flat tire on the way to her work and she had to park it at the local convenience store it was all real close together, the store, her work, and their house. So, she proceeded to call him and tell him and walk on her way to work. Well, motherfucker decided that he better go change the tire immediately because he didn't want anyone to ruin his pretty little car.
Ugh. Whatever.
So, the appointment was so close, and I couldn't imagine cancelling it, and he said he couldn't go, which meant I would have to drive the van there and back. I was so upset. I dropped him and his stupid crackhead friend off at the dumbass Camaro so he could change his precious tire, while I drove alone to the abortion appointment. I got there, and called my mom and sister to come meet me to help me drive home...and my sister wound up having to pay for part of the abortion. See, when they did the ultrasound, they discovered I was a day away from the cut-off date. I got it done.
My mom drove the van home. I had to nurse myself, taking all my medication and getting up to get my own drinks, I even had to walk my own dog...cuz prickhead couldn't do it...he had a headache. But, his little tire was all better.
That's why I hate Camaros.
That same night, my best friend, who is still my best friend, took me to Burger King to eat. I discussed how I planned on leaving him and what my backup plans were. I thought he wouldn't get mad if I left him this time, cuz we weren't really getting along anyway...I had been planning this escape for a few weeks. I had left him before but dumbly went back again, and the reason I had stayed was so he would pay for the abortion.
Well, the next day, I was trying to get everything in order, and he overheard me on the phone and got all bent out of shape and asked me if I was leaving him. I said yes. He told me well, take your things and go. I said, ok. I walked into the garage and started looking for boxes. He changed his mind and told me to leave now and not take anything with me, including my dog and clothes. I started to walk away from him and he shoved me about ten feet where I smacked into a wall and broke my arm.
I finally ran out and called the cops at a neighbor's house, and my mom and sister came to help me get my stuff, and the cop had to be there when I was getting everything out.
I went back a couple of times, moved back in, moved back out...I think the final time was two months after that crap happened. I never talked to him after that.
That's why I hate Camaros.
The End.
