There are days when the universe gently nudges you and then there are days when it backs up, floors the accelerator, and runs you over repeatedly.

This week’s in-the-shitter episode stars my daughter in: Auto Embolism, New York Edition.

My daughter went to collect the car from our parking garage in Manhattan and discovered the battery had died. Flat. Completely lifeless. The vehicular equivalent of a Victorian fainting spell.

The parking attendant, proving once again that the quiet heroes of New York often wear garage uniforms, kindly jump-started it. Crisis averted. Off she drove downtown to her apartment.

Then came the miracle.

She found a street parking spot.

Anyone who has ever owned a car in New York knows this is less a parking event and more a religious experience. Choirs of angels. Rays of light.

She shut off the car.

And then noticed the window had been left open.

She tried to restart the car.

Nothing.

Dead again.

Clearly the problem was bigger than a simple battery.

Inexplicably, she was now trapped in the car with the dog. Not knowing when AAA would arrive she had to crawl out the window with the 65-pound doggie, which for those keeping score, is not a maneuver typically covered in driver’s education.

Film at eleven.

After the Great Escape she waited for AAA. Eventually, they arrived and confirmed what we already suspected. The car was completely dead. The entire electrical system appeared to be having a complete meltdown.

Translation…the car had emotionally checked out of the relationship.

She was stranded. At this point it was clear a new car was in our future.

The dealership arranged a tow.

The towing service cancelled once.

Then cancelled again.

They finally arrived two and a half hours late,

By now it was 10 p.m.

At 12:30 a.m. my daughter received a call.

The driver explained, very calmly that the hood had flipped open on the highway.

Not slightly open.

Not awkwardly open.

Bent-in-half open.

The front end of the car now resembled an accordion.

Sadly, not the musical kind.

You truly cannot make this stuff up.

Which brings me to a moment of introspection.

Yes, the entire episode involved crawling out of a car window with a large dog, a midnight call about airborne hoods, and a family summit on whether blue is actually blue.

But in the grand scheme of things, these are what we politely call first-world problems.

Shifting gears, thankfully, no one was hurt and war was not declared.

The dog and the daughter survived the Great Escape and perhaps we will end up with a new car that actually functions after a myriad of issues which were never resolved.

Time to fill the tank with some good vibes, especially since gas is indeed a luxury item these days.