Someone To Look After Me?

This blogpost, unfortunately, has been inspired by a not too happy occurance this weekend. To put it bluntly, it was so stressful and at one point scary that I almost had a panic attack behind the wheel of my little car.
My brakes decided to almost pack up on the M25.
The weekend of 'The car drama' as it will now always be known, started with me walking back to said brum with good friend and colleague on friday evening after work. I was planning to go to my mums to collect some washing (can't have washing machines in the flats that me and said friend/colleague each reside in) and was looking forward to a saturday night of eating drinking and dancing with a few other friends/colleagues from where I work.
So can you imagine my utter anger when I returned to see that my wing mirror on the drivers side had been smashed to smitherines! This was not the first time it has happened, and to be presented with the prospect of driving thirty miles, on motorways and A-roads without apt vision was a scary thought.
Luckily, Halfords, which was approximately five miles away, and still open, managed to save the day, having a mirror in stock that I easily replaced and I was able to drive safely once more.
But little did I know that less than twenty four hours later it was about to get much worse.
I stayed at my mums house, had a glass of wine, then a restless nights sleep (wasps nest outside my old bedroom window does not a restful slumber make). I managed to sort out things that needed doing, driving the car to the various places without any hint of trouble with the brakes, then I set off back to my flat, mentally making plans for the evening ahead.
I hit the M25, thinking how relieved I was to have my wing mirror fixed, cheaply at that, and that my luck was genuinely good, when I applied the brakes to come off at the junction I needed. It was then that I heard the worst grinding ever coming from the front of the car so I turned off the stereo to listen as I continued driving, and the grinding got louder and louder. Panic started to set in and I drove with more caution and preyed I didn't have to perform any emergency stops. My brakes were no longer as efficient and I was seriously scared. I never heard grinding prior to this moment, and I swear I wasnt doing the 'putting it off hoping it would go away' routine that us women can be reputable for with our cars.
As by sheer luck I made it back, and got my car into the local KwikFit garage. I then handed over my credit card with the full knowledge that it was going to get a battering, but I no longer cared, my safety has been and will always be my main priority.
 I must have looked a state as I waited in the reception for the lowdown of what was wrong and how much etc, by the glances I was getting, when an older man who was also waiting said "Why don't you get your fella to sort all this out?" Looking back I didn't realise how aggressive I must have seemed, but I turned to him and said "I don't have one of those, I am single, and I live alone" practically glaring him out in the process.
I was hit with a wave of sadness then, that I don't have a man to 'look after me' and 'sort things out', and I walked back to my flat sans car and fighting back the tears.
It got me thinking about other situations that had occured previously in my life and I was not a happy bunny, I even started wondering what was wrong with me, feeling utterly sorry for myself (as well as my poor credit card) it was also a sobering thought that me and ' In The Red' will be companions for longer than I had planned.
But anyway, I picked up the now-fixed car, with a severly bent credit card and asked the mechanic for a breakdown of the costs (which he gladly gave, in print) and it was then that I noticed that there was a man in the reception with his wife, who also had brakes needing to be replaced.  He was, it can be said, in a similar state to what I was in, and it was reassuring to see that he was charged the exact same price, and was treated the exact same way as me (politely and with courtesy). This cheared me up somewhat. It then also occured to me that I had handled this, and many other situations, on my own, and had done it well. I didnt need to go running to someone else in my life and say "Sort this for me" and for that I was quite proud. It was also nice to know that the garage treated the genders equally (thankyou KwikFit!). So after this negative experience I was able to draw some positives, and it is good to know that when it comes down to it, I am perfectly able to look after myself. So it was with a happier heart that I was able to go out that night and really have a good time with some very good friends!