My car won't start. I suppose it is the starter...you know, since it won't start. What I dread most is coming to fruition. I can see it now; chugging down the road in Nick's Frankenride at four in the morning, amniotic fluid gushing everywhere, crossing my fingers the car makes it to the birth center before the passenger door falls off, sending me to meet the pavement just before the baby crowns.
...I need to call a mechanic.
OK, I realize that the above would never happen because I do indeed wear my seat belt. But still, I just feel the need to get my point across.