My fucking car broke down today. I decided that despite me relying on my car so much and riding it like a crack whore trying to make a midnight dollar that I should probably devote more time, care and attention to it. Which is why I spent my Monday evening washing it, turtle waxing it and valeting the shit out of it. I decided to partake in this ritual at my Grandmother's house, because she has a jet washer.
2 jet washes, a bucket of soap, 2 chamois, a can of 'Black in a flash' and a pack of CarPlan interior car wipes later; I decide it's time to drive home before my Grandmother ropes me into sitting and watching Eastenders and proceeding to narrate EVERY DAMN THING which is happening in the episode to such a degree that there really is no watching taking place. As I pull out of my space and start to roll, I fuck up with the pedals and my car stalls. I mutter under my breath, hope no one saw me and then turn the key. The car won't start. I have a bit of a break down at the realisation I happen to have left my phone at home and that I'm at the give way lines of a narrow road, about to turn into another which is pretty busy. After assessing my situation and trying to get the car to start I realise I'm gonna have to push this bitch into a safe place. Pushing it back up to the Gram-gram's is not an option because she lives on a hill so high and so steep that pushing 12 tonnes of metal up it would be suicide and I ain't trying to look like I got sexed by Optimus Prime.
After 20 minutes of Why me?, This can't be happening!, For fucks sake... and I really can't be arsed I start pushing. Just my luck that a bunch of hood rat girls walk past. I'm supposed to be that cool cat who they wolf whistle at as I strut past in my sexy wool coat (because it's what hood rat girls do). Not the one looking pathetic pushing a car and looking a sweaty mess in the middle of the road. Yet...I still try to look cool as I'm pushing my hunk o' metal. I've barely got the car rolling and they call out "D'ya need a hand!?" I chivalrously decline and tell them "I'm fine thanks!" (I've got my car roll rhythm on and shit's going okay given the circumstances) I continue pushing and they are now metres in the distance behind me. Yet I can still hear them, because hood rats don't know how to keep it down. "What should we do!?" "I really wanna help. I should help". "C'mon let's help!" I start to feel the car picking up speed and as I look behind me, I can see a bunch of girls pushing the car. I chuckle, almost cry with joy, shoot a smile and shout "Thanks!" They smile and giggle amongst themselves and they continue to push the car. Having moved the car into a safe spot I dust myself off, look them all in the face and bellow "Thanks girls!" And they all blush, chuckle and toddle off. "No problem!" before sitting on a wall with their ragga muffin crew of white boys who are kicking a ball against the wall.
Many things have occurred over the years for me to lose faith in the youth of today. It seems odd to say such a thing, given I'm in my twenties and a part of the so called youth society to many myself. But as I continue on this path of adulthood (with blotches of adolescence) I begin to see things in a different light. The youth of today feel like a different breed. They feel alien to me. I fail to see how their world was one I once lived in. Still live in Because I don't remember being that loud, that obnoxious and that culturally unaware - even though I may have been. As a result I've often looked down on them and judged them without knowing them. Going purely on how I see them on the street. But today taught me a valuable a lesson. A lesson I've been pleading with the universe to teach others due to how I've been treated by others in the past. Never judge a book by its cover. And never to underestimate the youth of today. You need to have some belief. Some hope. Believe that just because a kid walks down the street a certain way, it doesn't mean they have no manners, no goals and no aspirations to want to be someone, help another and become an active member of society. And if it weren't for these amazing bunch of girls today, I'd still be pushing my car down the road.
If I seem them outside an off license and they ask me to buy them a pack of cigarettes, I so will. I'll also do them another favour. Which is to have some faith in them. And to believe in their generation a little more now than I did yesterday. Because they aren't all one and the same.
2 jet washes, a bucket of soap, 2 chamois, a can of 'Black in a flash' and a pack of CarPlan interior car wipes later; I decide it's time to drive home before my Grandmother ropes me into sitting and watching Eastenders and proceeding to narrate EVERY DAMN THING which is happening in the episode to such a degree that there really is no watching taking place. As I pull out of my space and start to roll, I fuck up with the pedals and my car stalls. I mutter under my breath, hope no one saw me and then turn the key. The car won't start. I have a bit of a break down at the realisation I happen to have left my phone at home and that I'm at the give way lines of a narrow road, about to turn into another which is pretty busy. After assessing my situation and trying to get the car to start I realise I'm gonna have to push this bitch into a safe place. Pushing it back up to the Gram-gram's is not an option because she lives on a hill so high and so steep that pushing 12 tonnes of metal up it would be suicide and I ain't trying to look like I got sexed by Optimus Prime.
After 20 minutes of Why me?, This can't be happening!, For fucks sake... and I really can't be arsed I start pushing. Just my luck that a bunch of hood rat girls walk past. I'm supposed to be that cool cat who they wolf whistle at as I strut past in my sexy wool coat (because it's what hood rat girls do). Not the one looking pathetic pushing a car and looking a sweaty mess in the middle of the road. Yet...I still try to look cool as I'm pushing my hunk o' metal. I've barely got the car rolling and they call out "D'ya need a hand!?" I chivalrously decline and tell them "I'm fine thanks!" (I've got my car roll rhythm on and shit's going okay given the circumstances) I continue pushing and they are now metres in the distance behind me. Yet I can still hear them, because hood rats don't know how to keep it down. "What should we do!?" "I really wanna help. I should help". "C'mon let's help!" I start to feel the car picking up speed and as I look behind me, I can see a bunch of girls pushing the car. I chuckle, almost cry with joy, shoot a smile and shout "Thanks!" They smile and giggle amongst themselves and they continue to push the car. Having moved the car into a safe spot I dust myself off, look them all in the face and bellow "Thanks girls!" And they all blush, chuckle and toddle off. "No problem!" before sitting on a wall with their ragga muffin crew of white boys who are kicking a ball against the wall.
Many things have occurred over the years for me to lose faith in the youth of today. It seems odd to say such a thing, given I'm in my twenties and a part of the so called youth society to many myself. But as I continue on this path of adulthood (with blotches of adolescence) I begin to see things in a different light. The youth of today feel like a different breed. They feel alien to me. I fail to see how their world was one I once lived in. Still live in Because I don't remember being that loud, that obnoxious and that culturally unaware - even though I may have been. As a result I've often looked down on them and judged them without knowing them. Going purely on how I see them on the street. But today taught me a valuable a lesson. A lesson I've been pleading with the universe to teach others due to how I've been treated by others in the past. Never judge a book by its cover. And never to underestimate the youth of today. You need to have some belief. Some hope. Believe that just because a kid walks down the street a certain way, it doesn't mean they have no manners, no goals and no aspirations to want to be someone, help another and become an active member of society. And if it weren't for these amazing bunch of girls today, I'd still be pushing my car down the road.
If I seem them outside an off license and they ask me to buy them a pack of cigarettes, I so will. I'll also do them another favour. Which is to have some faith in them. And to believe in their generation a little more now than I did yesterday. Because they aren't all one and the same.