1985-1998 [Subscribe to Daily Digest] |
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Dear Sabby,
I have a good relationship with my Saab. Really, I do.
But tonight, things went badly between Sven-Olaf (1987 9KT) and me. It all started like usual: we met in the lot outside my apartment, I greeted his company with my key, slid into the seat with a smile, and reached for the familiar hug of the seatbelt. But before I'd had enough length to buckle up with, I was met by a jarring lock. I was slightly surprised by this, but you know, it had happened before and I knew that we'd work it out quickly: if an extra pull didn't do it, getting on the move usually would. But not tonight. No, tonight I pulled onto the road a little worried, belt still loose around my left arm, tugging my pleas with my right (between shifts) in vain. I even tried the things Sven loves: hard braking, swift acceleration, and quick turns, trying to shake this funk (inertia reel) out, but all to no avail. I got more worried. I began to think about some of our recent problems. Just this past week, Sven'd gotten all steamed and overheated on the interstate. But we went to a professional, and it turned out that it was just a thermostat, piece of cake. I thought we were all right. Why, Tuesday I even put in a brand new Blaupunkt, top of the line. So, feeling at this point like I was being taken advantage of, I began to get mad. I yanked the belt fiercely several times, but I can admit now, I'm just no match for a mechanism that's designed to stop many times my own weight; it didn't budge. I could swear the Sven was laughing at my ineffective strength, and in a fit of anger and insecurity, I said some things that I probably shouldn't have. But I'm not apologizing, no sir. When I got back to my place, seatbelt still hanging there useless, I wasn't through. I got out and gave that B-pillar plastic a good rapping of the knuckles and another piece of my mind. Even then, Sven just seemed smugly complacent to my distress and was disgusted. I'd had enough. I left him out in the cold there to think about his actions, while I stormed into my apartment to write this nasty account. I thought that if anyone knew how to deal with Sven's stubborn temperament (seatbelt), you would. At this point, I'm open to any suggestions, although since I've calmed down, I've decided that severing the belt off (and thus rendering it a chilling warning to the four remaining ones) is not a viable solution.
Signed,
Vengeful in VA
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