Brakes = Broke
This is an older (true) story, from when I was in high school. I was 16 at the time. I was thinking about it as I was driving home this morning, and thought that you guys would appreciate it.
I was driving to school in my Dad's Cadillac. It was a piece of junk - older than I was, on it's 5th or 6th owner, beaten all to hell, but I was 16, so I thought it was awesome. It was raining heavily. I was going up this huge hill when my brakes cut out. Mind you, I didn't notice that the breaks were out until I was on my way DOWN said hill at 50 miles per hour. At first I thought I must have driven through a puddle, so I started pumping the brakes. When that didn't work, I hit the emergency brake. That did nothing. As Mitch Hedberg once said, "It shouldn't be called an Emergency Brake. It should be called an Emergency Make-The-Car-Smell-Funny Lever."
I'd never used emergency brakes before, so I figure, hey, maybe THOSE need pumping, too. So, now each leg is pumping. Because of the position of the emergency brake, I have to rise slightly from my seat in order to pump it. Now, pumping both legs while in a half-squat position, semi-restrained by a seatbelt, results in a series of repeated, rhythmic hip-thrusts. I don't know if you've ever seen someone thrusting their hips while hanging off of a steering wheel, screaming obscenities with a wild look in their eyes, but let me tell you...it looks a lot like they're making violent, passionate love to their steering column.
I noticed that I was coming up on a red light, with other cars already stopped, so I moved into the turning lane and started blasting my horn. Keep in mind, I'm too terrified to take my hands off of the wheel, so, yes, I had to hit the horn with my hips. Now it not only looks like I'm engaging in intercourse with my steering column, but it sounds like it's enjoying it.
As I roll through the red light, thrusting, screaming, and hump-honking, I can only imagine what the people lined up at the red light are thinking as they look over and see me. I have visions of old people shaking their heads in disgust, turning to their passengers, and saying "Damned crazy teens."
I keep this up for a while before I finally realize that all the pumping isn't getting me anywhere (with the brakes, that is), so I say "Hell with it, this car's toast, anyway," and throw on the parking brake just as I take a turn into a parking lot. There's a huge THUMP sound and the tires squeal. Smoke comes pouring out from under the hood as I jerk to a sharp stop, with one last full-body thrust against my seatbelt. I fall back against my seat, sucking in air, and considering my position and feelings of mixed exhilaration and relief, I'm forced to wonder for the first (and possibly last) time in my life...did...did I just fuck a Cadillac?
"Rejoice! Although this world will probably hurt you.
Rejoice! Despite the fact this world will kill you!
And rejoice! Despite the fact this world will tear you to shreds...
Rejoice! Because you're trying your best!"
-"Rejoice!" by Andrew Jackson Jihad