Yes indeed, half my car was hydroplaning. Straining through my vaseline-smeared window, I could make out twin ruts in the road, worn by a wheelbase wider than that boasted by a Hyundai Excel. For the next five miles I got to play with having either the right or left side of my car in actual contact with the road. In lieu of the latest Aerosmith single or cellulite-blocker advertisement, I composed this blog about hating my car to distract me from morose ponderings of a fiery death. It's paid for.
Stuff is mostly unpacked.
Peanut likes the dog. We have dial-tone but no clue what our phone number is. I have thirty minutes to get to my accounting class, where I will spend the next three hours. Two weeks of nonstop Diablo II would do this to you too. Janesville is eating my soul.