Girl Meets World

An Indication

I stuck my key in my car trunk lock and turned. It would not budge. I turned again--harder this time. Still nothing. Again, I turned. "It's the ice or a bag obstructing my entry," I thought, turning the key once again. Finally I lifted my head and peered in the windows of my car, thinking that maybe I could crawl in through the fold-down to get in the back.

I was looking at a book with Seton Hill Griffins on the cover. Um, must be something I got from a table in front of the dining hall. Hm....

Then I saw it: the door for gas pumping was practically ripped off. After fiddling with the floppy door, I realized I would keep it as secret as I could from my dad. I mean I have had issues with hitting things. But I don't think it was me...Then I got angry. How could anyone just do a hit-and-run gas door rip-off?

I looked in again, thinking that I should go to the other side and open the door--electric locks. Looking in, something odd struck me--I didn't think that is the color of my upholstery, was it? (The sun was shining in my eyes, so I couldn't get a good look). Then I looked in again.

That was the moment I realized I was trying to open up someone else's car.

It took me approximately fifteen minutes of looking at "my" vehicle to realize that it was indeed not mine. I am a commuter--I should know my car.

Indication no. 1 that spring break has come not a moment too soon.