Tech melt-down

I'm driving through Nevada and my car starts making weird noises. I've been worried about this happening the whole trip. I have no skill with anything mechanical. Whenever my computer malfunctions I start ranting against Apple and Silicon Valley. After a couple seconds of the put-puttering though I cannot deny that there is a problem. I take the next exit and pull into a white-washed gas station whose painted sign has been faded by the sun. My car is the only one in sight, as there are no vehicles at the periphery of this small town, and so I can park anywhere in the lot. I walk into the small convenience store attached to the gas station and am greeted by a sleepy middle-aged woman at the cash register. There is a teenage boy browsing through the beverages, but otherwise the store is empty.

I ask the man at the cash register where I can find a mechanic for my car. He tells me that there is a place I can go to half a mile into town, but that it is probably closed because it is Sunday. Up until now I have been positive about my prospects, but now I let my sulking begin. Of course I have to get stuck here, in a white-washed tiny town in Nevada, where no stores are open on Sunday. Of course my car had to malfunction here and not somewhere with pleasant view of the mountains, or in a city where I can go to a museum to pass the time. Technology always seems to fail you at the worst time. Is it even worth having when it presents us with more trouble than its worth?

"I don't know what to do then. I'm just don't want to drive my car with all the weird noises its making. Is the place really not open today?" I say. The man at the cash register doesn't look me in the eye, but glances to his right nervously. He can sense the wrath of a frustrated traveler.

"I can take a look at it, if you'd like," says the teenage boy at the back of the store.

We walk over to the car, and I let him open the hood as I've never opened it myself. I am repulsed even by the look of all the wires, the greasy look of it all. The cashier comes up from behind with a toolbox that was kept behind the cash register. The teenager stood with his arms crossed, staring at the mess for a while, and then started poking and prodding with his hands, then with the metal tools.

Fifteen minutes later he closed the hood and told me everything was set. He told me what the problem had been, but I had no idea what he was saying so I promptly cut him off with a string of thank yous. Thank God he was there; I was about to have a full-on road trip meltdown. Something about technology irritates me uncontrollably sometimes. I just feel so helpless, so dumb when I do not know how to work it.