There is indeed a slight chance I may be going to Heck.
For I have done the unthinkable.
Yes, I did.
I do not own a rust bucket, rattle trap, beater or a clunker.
I do not own an "island car."
But, I do own a nice little, politically correct, hybrid all-wheel-drive auto.
And until today, I thought this 3-year-old car - which frankly, in "island car" years is NOTHING - was going to get me through rain, sleet, snow, dark of night and anything else that might stand in its way.
I did not anticipate other-worldly possession or electronic breakdown.
I did not anticipate what to do during said other-worldly, electronic breakdown possession.
And I surely did not anticipate having rude, post-menopausal women fall into conniption fits over the fact that my car would not start up when it was time to exit the boat.
So this must be where the words Fear-of-God come from.
We were in fact, coming ONTO the island, not OFF the island.
What in God's Good Name was there to be in a hurry about?
And if the dress-down in lane 4 wasn't enough, the fact that no one, but NO ONE, knew what to do when a hybrid auto would not start, was. Lol.
I have stumped plenty of people in my time, but never once over a smart-start, electric car.
Ok, well there was that one time when we pulled out of the local McDonald's, with the windows open, and we heard one very stoned individual exclaim to another as we drove by in quiet-start mode, "Dude, did you even hear that car start?"
But I will tell you that in my defense and good character, I in fact, kept my cool.
This being a very important point to remember, next to the fact that I had been escorting three, lovely octegenarian ladies around the local off-island stores for the better part of eight hours.
I was tired, my feet hurt and I was aiming to get home before Dancing With The Stars started.
My aim was off.
Ok. Well, my aim was off when it came to the timeline.
It was not off, however, when I got pushed down the boat ramp and was left to roll to a humiliatingly slow stop in front of the Steamship Authority Building in the Bus Lane.
It was a good thing we were on one of the last boats to set sail that night.
I thought in this land of Good and Plenty that having a nice little, politically correct, hybrid all-wheel- drive auto would be enough.
But apparently, I need also to know how to revive such an animal.
And in front of untold numbers of disgruntled boat customers.
When the AAA tow-truck guy finally arrived, all he could do was shake his head in wonder and laugh a little.
And offer to keep it on the flatbed tow truck overnight.
Because the only way to get the nice little, politically correct, hybrid all-wheel-drive auto to the Toyota dealership on the Mainland, would entail dropping it back off at the SSA parking lot in the morning, pushing the little focker onto the boat, letting it ride in silence, and finally pushing it off the boat on the other side for the dealership to pick up.
Well, they ought to make it easier to be a nice little, politically correct, all-wheel-drive auto owner on the island.
And if what I heard over whispers is true, I am certain they have saved me a place in line for Heck, too.
Check your oil, and have a Good One. :)