The Cost of Ignoring Potential Car Trouble in NYC

Quite some time ago, you realized that service business revenues thrive in situations where you, the consumer, are feeling most vulnerable. When you feel pressured to make an uneducated choice in a challenging situation (i.e. breaking down on the highway in NYC), your options are limited. Left without a choice, you pay exacerbated towing costs to the sole authorized towing agent for that highway. You suddenly think to yourself..ah, the monopoly..the cornerstone of the American economy. Did I mention you were on your way to a night out in the city? In truth, this scenario is less about you and more about me--it's the abbreviated version of my experience this past Friday night.

A tow truck driver identifying himself as 'Ophelio' arrived at the roadside and jumped out of his truck with his phone attached to his ear and abruptly announced "80 to hook it up, 8 bucks a mile," and continued his phone call. I just stood there pretty stunned at the idea that I might not be making it to my destination. At first I thought Ophelio was an asshole; it wasn't until later on in our expensive, 18-mile ride back through the Bronx that I was able to actually confirm my deeper hatred for this crude roadside technician. Throughout our ride, Ophelio decided it would be appropriate to engage in raunchy phone sex via Nextel direct-connect with his Mamacita, who I effortlessly imagined was waiting for him back at their apartment in Spanish Harlem. Let me assure you, the two held nothing back in their descriptive and appalling exchange. Despite his very overweight stature and stark Ecuadorian accent, Mami was apparently responding quite positively to his attempt at arousal--so much so that this lewd behavior went on for 25 minutes as we battled night traffic to merge onto the Northbound Cross Bronx Expressway. It was at that very moment I realized that this Friday night was turning into everything I had ever hoped for.

Several hours and a tow truck-transfer later, myself and my sorry excuse for reliable transportation arrived at my mechanic in New Rochelle. I thought the ordeal was finally coming to a close. Looking back on the experience and the money spent, I realized that (at least financially), it had only just begun. I slipped my key into the night drop box and hopped into a friend's car for a ride home. Since then, I've been thinking about how life might be less costly and more enjoyable had I never actually purchased this

money pit of a vehicle. I've pondered the joy I would feel if a bus would hit it at full speed while parked. I dreamt further that I dropped it off in the worst block in East New York and watched from a rooftop as thieves stripped it down to the frame and mounted its axles on cinderblocks.

While my car boasts comfortable leather seats and a Bose sound system, the bus is famous for its foul odor and cramped quarters. Mass transit and I don't have such a great history together. In fact, I narrowly escaped death via decapitation when my car was hit by a transit bus on a sharp curve on the morning of my H.S. prom. Our history aside, something tells me that (at least for the next several days) I'll be shedding the comfort and luxury of my Nissan while mass transit and I are forced to reunite and become closer with one another than ever before. As long as I never have to hear Ophelio's voice again, I imagine I will eventually recover from this traumatic and unforgettable experience. One can only pray.