My car embarrasses me. It’s dinged, dented, dirty, noisy and big. I don’t want to have it anymore. And I think it knows it.
I have a ’92 mercury sable wagon. It’s got my family and I around for 5 years now. It’s coming to an end of its useful life. I just don’t like it. Never have. But you can’t let your car know how you really feel about it; they hear you.
Brutus, as my dear-departed wife had named him, was for the most part a loyal car. However, that loyalty didn't come without a price. $1600 for a transmission fix, another $700 for a ball joint problem, replace the head, the brakes and tires of course, and the fan, belts, alternator … every F***ing thing you can find on the shelf at the AutoZone.
Why didn’t I get a new car?
That’s a long story … has to do with a 13 year spread of family/economic instability and poverty. It’s been a rough adult life for me. A car, however necessary, wasn’t as important than groceries and rent.
Today, I just had had it with this car. It’s telling me it wants to ‘retire’. The fairly new brakes do not like stopping on any down slope. Oh they’ll stop, but they won’t like it. My transmission is doing the same thing it did before when it finally gave up once in downtown Salem. I never make fun of people broken down on the side of the road. I’ve been there brother, just hang in there. Do I stop and help? Heck no, if my car caught a whiff of a distressed car it would get the idea it was ok to break down along side it in sympathy.
I need a new car. My family deserves the reliable transportation. It is time to put it down. Or I’ll let the car dealership do that. Hang in there Brutus, soon you will be resting peacefully with others of your type at the pick-n-pull salvage yard.
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