Our car has image problems. It’s an automatic, but it wants to be a manual. It stalls at every stop and we have to put it on neutral and then quickly flip to drive when the light turns green. It also wants to be a big Diesel truck because it takes forever to get up to speed…and by the time it does, we’ve hit another red light.
Sadly, our car also has a very bad self-esteem and doesn’t think that it deserves to be treated right. Whenever we gas it up or give it an oil change, it stalls or gives us a new problem. If we coax it or flatter it, it acts even worse. We’ve found ourselves turning into mean, coarse people, bullying the car, calling it names, hitting it…yet, we have no choice. It’s the only way it knows. I shudder to imagine what people owned our car before we did…oh, I know…Trisha owned it. Trisha, what have you done?
I am also sad to report that our car has a drinking problem. For the last month, my rage built as I thought that I was the only one putting gas in our car. Simultaneously, my sister’s anger grew when she thought she was the only one putting gas in the car. It turns out that our car has been chugging down gas like some poor drunken sailor. I feel like a fool for supporting it’s wicked habits.
To make it worse, our car is also a complainer. Every time we turn it, it makes a wierd popping sound that CANNOT be good. I’m afraid one of the wheels is getting ready to pop off…after all, it’s happened before.
I’d say more…but I don’t want to be disrespectful…you see, our car is also terminally ill. It is lying on it’s death bed right now as we speak. I didn’t even know it’s name…that’s correct. Every time I tried to give it a name, I promptly forgot it. I’m trying not to blame myself for it’s death. It’s just the natural way of things…and YET can you believe that our car did NOT qualify for the cash for clunker program? It’s no SUV, but holy cow! Not that we’d EVER be able to replace such a car, nothing ever could…only our bikes…well, my bike. Jacqueline’s bike has a very bad self esteem.