‘Okay, that’s it,’ I said through gritted teeth, my hand sore from clutching my seat belt for so long. ‘What the hell was that?’
‘What was what?’ my boyfriend asked innocently, eyes never leaving the rain-covered road.
‘That sound your car just made,’ I glared at him. ‘It’s been doing it since we left Morayfield.’
‘I have no idea what you’re—’
He was cut off by a short, sharp, screeching sound that rattled up from the undercarriage beneath us. We sat in silence for a for a few moments, no sound but the rhythmic thudding of the wipers.
‘I have no idea—’
‘Nope,’ I cut him off from trying again, shaking my head with disbelief. ‘What is it, George?’
‘I… I don’t know,’ he sighed. ‘It’s been making it for a few weeks now.’
‘Weeks?’ I said, shocked. ‘Why haven’t you gotten it fixed?’
‘Do you know how hard it is to find qualified mechanics near Morayfield that do vehicle inspections?’ he asked with a whine.
‘Do you know how hard it is to find medical help when your car explodes underneath you on a rainy night in the middle of nowhere?’
‘No,’ he frowned. ‘Why would I—’
‘Because that’s about to happen to us, George!’
‘Oh, right,’ he nodded. ‘Yep, I’m with you now.’
‘Just take it to see a mechanic tomorrow, please,’ I pleaded with him.
‘I have an appointment tomorrow,’ he sighed. ‘I guess I can ask them to look at that sound too.’
‘Wait a second,’ I held up a hand. ‘You’re taking it to a mechanic tomorrow?’
‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘Happy?’
‘But not for this?’
‘Not originally, no, I just have to get a transmission and clutch service. But I think they’ll probably have a—’
‘You said it’s been weeks?!’
I shook my head in a mixture of exasperation and disbelief.
‘What?’ he asked, puzzled.
‘They should study you,’ I decided. ‘The first person ever born without a self-preservation instinct.’