Let Me Tell You the Snowflake Button Story
I don’t know car stuff. I know that probably surprises you because I’m single and I pretend to be a fairly intelligent, independent woman. But, when it comes to cars I just can’t. This morning my car decided it wasn’t going anywhere because, “Damn, don’t you know it’s -30 degrees outside, biznatch?” (That’s what the car said to me.) And of course, my dad had to rescue me or I would still be sitting in the car talking to it. It reminded me of a bunch of car stories, one being about a snowflake button in a Pontiac G6.
And although my friends told me to never, ever, ever, tell anyone that story again, I feel like it’s a story that can help someone – sort of like the story about how an Amish buggy ran me off the road in the middle of the night in Iowa, except that story probably isn’t actually helpful. I swear to the baby Jesus it sounded like I had been attacked by darkness. Like the Headless Horseman was chasing me. I heard the wind, guys. And there really isn’t anything you can do when you’re attacked by a buggy tied up to a horse. What are you going to do, call 911? Yeah, okay. “I was just attacked by darkness,” always goes over well. Don’t ask me how I know that.
Anyway, the G6 was not a good winter-driving car. Whenever I stopped at a stop light it took a great deal of work to keep from sliding all over the damn intersection and crashing into everyone. That is, until I figured out I could press the snowflake button in the car a few times to make it drive better.
Dad: How’s the G6 in the snow?
Me: Well, it was crappy until I found the snowflake button.
Dad: Huh? What snowflake button?
Me: You know, that button with the snowflake that makes the car drive better in the snow.
Dad: DOES IT GET COLD IN YOUR CAR WHEN YOU PRESS THE SNOWFLAKE BUTTON, CHRISTINA?
Like, how was I supposed to know? I live in the arctic tundra – it’s always cold. It certainly didn’t get HOT when I pressed it. That would’ve been hella suspicious.
My friend: Ohhh. So you thought the snowflake button turned your car into a snowmobile?
No. Don’t be ridiculous. But let me tell you how this worked:
Stop light or stop sign. Go time. Snowflake button snowflake button snowflake button. Whew, didn’t crash into anything.
Look. I’m going to tell you about mind power. Because, until the whole world fell on the ground laughing about the snowflake button, it worked. That button got me through a couple winters and I just assumed it was something no one talked about because DUH, we also don’t talk about wearing hats in the winter. We just do it.
Turns out, the G6 needed new tires but I thought it made more sense to just get a whole new car. You know, it would’ve been way cheaper to just keep believing in the snowflake button.
Or maybe I need a life-chaperone.