I bought these new shoes and couldn’t wait to wear them—what better excuse than a drive? I feel confident and gorgeous in these silver stilettos; they look so sexy on my feet. So I get ready to go out and head to the Ford that’s been sitting idle in my garage for days. I’ve missed driving it so much.

I sit in the driver’s seat, cross my legs, and dangle my heel while texting my friend to invite her to join me. While waiting for her reply, I decide to start the car. That’s when my frustration begins—the car refuses to start.

After lots of pumping and engine sputtering, I no...

I bought these new shoes and couldn’t wait to wear them—what better excuse than a drive? I feel confident and gorgeous in these silver stilettos; they look so sexy on my feet. So I get ready to go out and head to the Ford that’s been sitting idle in my garage for days. I’ve missed driving it so much.

I sit in the driver’s seat, cross my legs, and dangle my heel while texting my friend to invite her to join me. While waiting for her reply, I decide to start the car. That’s when my frustration begins—the car refuses to start.

After lots of pumping and engine sputtering, I notice a strong smell of gasoline. I must have flooded it. I take a break, swapping my shoes for another pair that’s even sexier—maybe the Ford didn’t like the first pair, and that’s why it didn’t cooperate.

I pick up my phone and try to reach someone for help, hoping for tips on how to get this stubborn car to start. Then I go back to trying. The engine shows some signs of life, and I think it’s responding better to the new sandals. Smoke begins to puff out of the exhaust, but the car keeps stalling repeatedly.

By this point, I’m exhausted. Defeated, I give up and leave.