My car is a piece of shit.
No disrespect. It gets me from A to B, so I’d hate for it to hear that I’m dissing it. But it has elements of shittiness that have nothing (or little) to do with the fact that I’ve thrashed it to pieces and am kind of having a subconscious competition inside my own head to see if I don’t service it, wash it, or buy a new spare tire, it will die and then I can buy a new car.
I’m just realising the folly of my game – because it will happen if I play my cards this way!
(P.S. I am not an idiot. I did buy a new spare tyre but they didn’t actually give me one – just the old flat one. But because they’re a part of “the firm” I don’t want to make waves. So I will look into that when I next get my car serviced in 2015!)
The elements of shittiness that have nothing to do with regular maintainance are as follows:
My car smells.
I mean that honestly. These last few days, getting in, I’ve almost had to get out of there again just as quickly. (Which could, I admit, be a phobic-avoidance reaction to where I’m going.) There’s a definite whiff of something having crawled into the heating ducts, shat itself and died there. A rotten stench of old milk, half a cow’s carcass, and spider babies.
It better not be spider babies. Although at least they’d be dead. But now I’m having visions of turning on the heating and a million spider babies spilling out like fire-ants. And to be honest, I’d take the fire ants.
Fuck, I hope there are no fire ants!
And the thing is, my car is clean. Yep. Well, apart from a box of year 9 corrections that have spilled over on the backseat. But I don’t think they stink. So now I’m wondering if there are air vents from the boot to my car. It make sense. I mean, if somebody kidnapped me and put me in the boot, I’d hope Nissan had had the forethought to put airvents in the boot.
Right?
And if that’s the case, that smell could be anything. I’ve got crap from 1986 in that boot, and I wasn’t even old enough or tall enough to see over the steering wheel then. I could have fire ants, spider babies and half a cow’s carcass in the boot easily. In fact, I’d be surprised if I didn’t. My boot is like Narnia – except this Narnia has been treated like landfill, and now everything’s is spilling back out again. What goes in the boot stays in the boot. If I had a flat tyre, I couldn’t actually get to the spare one anyway.
I need a new boot. Can’t fit one more shoe in this one. Can’t find all the shoes that are there already.
I need a new car with no boot, and no roof either (a great excuse for losing a whole bunch of year 9 corrections!)
This is my dream car.
