Hot Wheels: A Tale of a Car and its Ungrateful Owners

What to do about the blistering heat in the country these days? Keep ice blocks in my backpack every now and then? I don't know. I wish I could turn the dial down on the boiler in the air.

I stepped out of my house today, finally! It was with my mother, though, as we needed to solve some problems. We just didn't think we had any more waiting for us. We thought to commute in commercial vehicles but considered the convenience we needed to carry everything we'd get back home and took our car instead.

The morning sun seemed apt for some good sun-kissed photos, so I set the scene with my new fancy tripod I got recently—it has three legs, surprisingly— and then, click, click, click, I took a few. Little did I think I'd have such an exhilarating day with the same sun.

To our surprise, the road was as clear as crystal—for most of it, though—and it was super weird to see that. It is usually like driving at 1 km/h on our route at the time we left, literally. And in a matter of seconds, voilà, we were at our destination already; the Oshodi Arena market. Unfortunately, due to the risk of the kidnapping of my phone, I defeated the urge to take photographs when we got there—because I don't have a ransom to pay. LOL.

Gradually, as the day got older, the sun and its rays of luminescent touch grew stronger, like someone left the microwave open. But we managed to get around the whole market to get our list checked. When I checked the time, eventually, we had spent six damn hours being cooked. My bright smile quickly turned into, well, something other than a smile; more like a desperate face to jump into a freezer.

We got on our way as soon as we finished. Without hesitation, we turned on the car's air conditioning system and put it on maximum. What we didn't think at that time was that the car was in desperate need of jumping into a freezer, and we were subjecting it to more of that feeling.

As the car saw that its wicked owners weren't considerate of the third passenger—itself—it thought to alert us of its predicament. The alert popped up on the dashboard, indicating an overheating situation. We understood the risk of ignoring it, so we stopped to let it indulge in some of the cool air around and rest a bit.

As a graduate of engineering with 5 (plus 2) years of book experience, heh, I knew better than to open the radiator at the very moment we saw the alert. I sure would have had a different post up here about the accidental burns that could have happened. So, instead, we chose to literally chill with the car.

Soon, we realized that some people couldn't use their gifts of sight to see that we had a problem and we were obviously not moving. I had to do what I should have done earlier as my responsibility as a driver: put the caution sign behind the vehicle. Before I did that, I almost killed someone.

Okay, I didn't almost kill someone, actually. I opened the door before looking and almost caused an accident for a peaceful rider on my side of the road.

I'd say peaceful because he could have parked to beat my tiny ass for almost ruining his bike and killing causing him to fall. I quickly apologized with a gesture—because he was too far away already to shout, "DON'T TURN BACK IN ANGER. I AM SORRY."

After that drama—which only lasted for less than a minute—we waited for another while for the car to cool off. When it felt right, I went to check the radiator, and then I found that it had very little water in it.

Little wonder the car started whining. I then took my precious water—that I intended to drink to ease the gas building in my belly after devouring a bowl of beans—and poured it into the radiator, gasping for air H₂O. Some chemical reaction was going to happen in the air later on, courtesy of the beans.

In slow motion, I fed the radiator that water—to solve a problem different from that in my belly. "Shhh, ahhh" were the words I could hear from the radiator as it drank my water cooled off.

Now that we were all good, we were back on the road. But this time with the AC system off, to mitigate the risk of needing to share my water again.

Not long after, however, we had to stop again, but at the gas station—because the guy started whining again. We had to feed this same bastard guy that drank my water some fuel. This piece of metal is enjoying itself more than its owner. What audacity and effrontery this tin can must have to act like a spoiled brat!

Surely, I should have the power to seize its enjoyment. But then, I wasn't its genuine owner, and I wasn't the one driving. I'm sorry; I must have made you think I was driving all the way. We fed the guy what he wanted anyway, because we wouldn't get home without that, obviously!

We got home safe and sound, although one of us remained dehydrated and kept contaminating the air. We all survived, still.

This post was supposed to be about a hot day, but the truth is, I only wanted to show you the photographs I took. I am sorry I lied. I blame the beans.