I defy anyone who has ever had their car compared to a Volvo to find a
nastier insult than the one I recieved today. I was working on my 'B for the
last time before I returned to school, and I finally got around to putting my
Union Jack boot lid on. I was showing my parents when my sister came home
from work. You must understand, she is to cars what Lassie is to dogmeat.
She said, "wow, that's neat, did you paint that yourself?" Assuring her
that I did, she said, "That's nice and everything, but why did you paint the
old reebok logo on your car?" I almost lost my bowels. Some people just
don't get it, and they never will.
Before I left, I sat down in my MG, with the top and windows up, battery
removed and tool box over the battery compartment and waited for the rain to
stop. I sat there, thinking of what it would be like if I was driving right
now, flicking on the lights, wipers and defrotsters. The I realized how much
I was going to miss that car. I never felt like that before in my life. I
realize now that the MG and I bonded in a way that i can't understand, but I
liked it. I challenge anyone who says that a car can't have soul to deny
that's what I felt. That little car talked to me and said, "Don't go. Stay,
and fix my wiring. Put in that better water pump." The whole transaction
reminds me of a line in a Jimmy Buffett song. "Yes i own a whaler boat. It
glides across the sea. Some folks say I'm a part of it and I know it's a
part of me."
The deep and melancholy Mike Lishego signing off for the night. Take car of
your cars, and they'll take care of you.
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