My first car was a beautiful 4th hand red KA. Being one of a handful of my friends that could drive she got utilised a lot. She became my wardrobe, dining area, bed on occasion and nightclub. 

Towards the end of her life the electrics started to fail which resulted in me using her boot as a door the majority of the time. Friends would stand there and act as though they weren't with me whilst I'd scramble through, exposing myself on occasion, to then open the side door like a bloody chauffeur. 

After finishing work one night with a friend we decided a McDonald's run was needed after such a hard shift. So we drove into the night and got our well deserved happy meals, cheeses dippers and mcflurys (it really was a hard shift). Sitting in the car scoffing our faces, music blaring (nightclub car) and laughing about a penis I'd drawn in a customers Guinness the car fell silent. Like when a spaceship dies, or your hairdryer gets pulled out the wall or when the electronics fail on your first car.

It was midnight, I'd killed my car, what was the logical thing to do?? I tried a few times to restart the engine but nothing.  So I proceeded to eat my food. Logical..

"Dad, I'm at McDonald's and the cars broken down"

"Are you fucking serious??"

He arrived 10 minutes later with this face:

After 3 failed attempts to jump start it and lots of giggles (not by my Dad...definitely not by my Dad) he decided that towing it would be the best idea.

"Keep the rope fucking taught so it doesn't snap" - yeah, yeah, whatever taught means, I'll keep it taught.

I definitely should of asked what taught meant. 

We started off, with my friend made to sit in my dad's car so there was no extra weight in my car (I felt as though somewhere in that statement my dad was judging me for the vast amount of McDonald's I'd just eaten). My friend turns around to wave, I do the cheery thumbs up sign, my dad "Natalie get fucking serious"

Easing along I thought, this is easy, don't know what all the stress is about, then we had to stop to exit the drive through onto a busy main road. The rope was what they call slack (he opposite of taught) at this point and so as soon as we pulled off, the rope snapped and I was left deserted right in the middle of the road. 

Luckily across the way from McDonald's was a lay-by that cool young chavs hung out at in their souped up Fiestas. My dad pulled in as a mob of chavs came to my rescue and started pushing the car into said lay-by. THANK YOU BOYS. 

I arrived safety. Then my door opens (those fucking electronics couldn't of helped me this time could they) "I said TAUGHT, *#€$>$|**#$~, %*#€¥#*, *#*}*}*}$#". 

I'm so sorry dad. But you really did ruin whatever dignity I had left at that point. 

This happened 2 more times on the way home, once on a roundabout and without my delightful chavs to save their damsel in distress (the car, not me).

With everyone home safely, eventually, and everyone hating me, the general consensus was that my loved had to be sent to the scrapyard in the sky. Oh and that I needed refresher driving lessons from my Dad.

Don't play music in your car and drain your battery.

Taught means tight, NOT loose.

Food is always the priority.