My Current Pile of Metal and Shame

(Sing some of that “get’um up, round up song)

When I arrive places, people turn to see the herd of cattle passing.  Instead a small, dented, red, two door, Acura filled with a cloud of fog appears.
To escape the small red fog machine of shame I have to role down the window of the car and grab the outside handle of the door.  My windows are electric, when I turn the car off the automatic seat belt glides forward.  I turn to open the door
“Shit”
the handle is broken.  I put the key back in the ignition and turn it.
Out of nowhere, the seat belt flies back at me.
My arm has moved forward to flip the automatic window switch is all tangled in the fabric of the seat belt which struggles to move back to its position above my head despite my arm obstructing it while I reach out the opening window , grasp the handle and open the door.  While the door is open I have to again make my way to the switch which operates my window so that I can put it up, then turn the key and try to remember not exit the car while the automatic seat belt  glides , mindlessly, back into the position towards the steering wheel.