The car never starts in this weather, and it’s shaky when it does. The damn thing is old enough its developed arthritis. It creaks and moans with the painful fury of age longing for the reaper’s scythe. It sees the other cars on the road – bright, young things with a future. They’ve got all sorts of comforts it never had – heated seats, GPS, remote starters. When it was new, older cars probably envied things like seat belts and fuel injectors, but not anymore. New is the new old. Old is forgotten, thrown away, taken for granted. It can still move on good days, my car. It’s probably happy to still be out in the world instead of sent away to a junkyard somewhere to be poked and prodded. Cars these days.
Everyone says I should buy a new car, and, believe me, I agree. I’m not attached to the old bastard. We’ve had a good run, but it limps along begging to be put down. I just can’t afford to replace it. The housing market crashed. The banks all went broke, and the auto industry collapsed. Despite all of it, the cost of a car is still ten grand plus. Even a decent used car is going to cost three thousand, and I couldn’t get a loan to buy a cup of coffee. If I saved up, I might be able to buy some $500 clunker with more internal problems than my ex-girlfriend. I guess I just don’t want to gamble on all that. I’d rather deal with the devils I know, and I know my car won’t start right now.
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