I was driving on a lonely, snowy back road when my car fishtailed. I spun and landed at a 45-degree angle in a snowy woodsy gully. Saplings wedged my doors shut.
No problem, I thought jauntily. In this day and era of gadgety and computerized automobility, I’ll have no trouble connecting with someone to help me escape from this misshapen Chevy.
I scrounged my pockets for my portable Commodore phone, but I discovered I had left it in my other phone holster.
No problem, I thought in a lively and cheerful manner. After I push aside this cumbersome and intrusively deployed airbag, I’ll easily access assistance via our car’s handy-brandy, blueberry-tooth, space-aged, drone-like, satellitistic messaging system. Hmm, now where did I put the recipe for that digital wigga-whammy?
I couldn’t find the digital wigga-whammy nor the recipe. I think both are in my other glove box.
Well, I thought with confident optimism. This is not like the olden days when people fishtailed on ice and ended up alone in a snow-filled woodsy gully ditch in the middle of nowhere because their car slipped off the road after spinning. In those days there was no way to communicate! Those days are over! Finished! Kaput!
All I have to do is punch in my friend Ed’s number into my conveniently portable dashboard–slash–windshield-washer roboticizer, and Ed will pick up one of his sundry devices and will jiffy pop over here to rescue me from this ever-darkening and ever-creepier woods where it is now starting to snow again harder this time.
I stuck the suction cup to the window and plugged the wire into the e-cigarette porthole. I pressed the Search key. Nothing happened.
Hmm, I thought. Electronical system not working. Probably a short in the trunk.
I attempted to maintain my sprightly mood.
When I finally managed to access Ed’s voicemail, night had fallen. I left a message for Ed. Ed returned my call three days later as I recovered in the hospital from frostbite.
“Hey, Blair,” Ed said. “I just saw your message. What’s up?”
“Thanks, Ed.” I said. “I almost died in a terrible car accident, and I called you for help. Where were you?”
“How do I know where I was?” said Ed. “That was three days ago. I don’t even know where I am today, ha ha ha!”
“Ha ha ha” I muttered. “Some friend. Thanks a lot for rescuing me.”
After saying goodbye to Ed, I hit the nurse’s call button to request additional jauntiness medication, but instead I mistakenly activated the hospital’s sprinkler system.