Able To Stop But Nowhere To Go

It's about 2:30 in the afternoon and I'm parked in Jonesville at the Citgo Station across from the State Police Post. I'm writing this with a red-inked fountain pen on orange paper. I'll type it into the computer when I get home.
A few minutes ago I called Morgen on my cell phone, to see if it'd be ok for me to stop by the store on Saturday.
Nope!
I mean, he didn't object to the concept of me visiting (I hope), but he warned me that all the streets will be blocked off because of some festival or car show or something. "You probably won't be able to find a parking space within a mile of the store," he said.
So, that settled that. No going-to-Dowagiac this weekend.
Tomorrow morning I have an appointment to get the brakes fixed on my car. It's such a nice luxury, actually being able to STOP one's vehicle when one is speeding along at 60mph. Whenever I press the brakes, I hear a terrible grinding scraping noise. It sounds so awful. I'll be glad when it's fixed!
I'll need a bumper sticker afterward: "Able To Stop But Nowhere To Go!"