I have this thing about cars. That sounds like a generic statement — a broad one, doesn’t it? I guess I should say me and cars just don’t seem to get a long. I don’t know what it is, but ever since I totaled my mom’s Buick Century right after I got my driver’s permit, cars just hate me.

My first car was a 1974 Chevy Nova. You would think that one would have been pretty safe, but no. One day, I was driving from home when the gas pedal got stuck. That is a scary feeling to be rolling down Highway 23 toward town. I had a Ford Escort, a later model Chevy Nova, and then the last car was a Toyota Corolla. Without boring you with details, I will just say that my wonderful daddy has answered many a call to come save me from the side of the road.

Everything was going so good on Wednesday. That is until my green machine, the Ford Taurus, decided to let me know he wasn’t too happy with me. In the middle of nowhere, between Vienna and Americus, he decides he is too tired to go any further.

Standing on the side of the road, my trunk lid open and my hood up, looking as pitiful as my 38-year-old self could, you would think someone, any of the 500-something cars, including a local Sheriff’s patrol car, would have stopped to offer help.

Hasn’t anyone ever heard the story of the Good Samaritan?

I could understand if I was 6 foot 2 with earrings and tattoos and punk rock hair, but here I am, a poor, little (OK, so I am weight- challenged (politically correct term for being overweight), girl, standing in the beating sun on the side of the road.

My dad was over 60 miles away. I am new to the area. I have a friend (yes, world, I do have one friend other than my lovely momma) who lives in Americus. We have known each other for years, so when I called her, all I could say was, “Come get me.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“I don’t know, in the middle of nowhere. This stupid car. Come get me.”

I really couldn’t tell her where I was, but she found me. Still, my patience was getting thin and the sweat was just pouring off my head.

The car just stood there. Occasionally I heard little noises coming from the ca — -almost sounded like laughter. I haven’t had the Taurus long enough to mistreat it. OK, so I might have had a heavy foot while driving Wednesday, but I promise I was nice to the car.

I tried to stare down every car that passed, even the ones with unsavory looking characters staring back at me. It was hot. I was hungry. I wanted to go home.

Still, no one stopped.

My friend called me to let me know she was on her way. The battery on my phone was dying. I could just see the headline now in Thursday’s newspaper: “News editor dies due to sweat.”

Just as I was contemplating, well, I don’t know what I was contemplating, a white horse pulled up.