Rest in Peace My friend
like like the lone cherry blossom
I know you'll return
Sad news, brothers and sisters... there's been a death in my family. If you came to this blog looking for funnies to lighten your day, I caution you to turn back now, as I need to vocalize my grief. After 4 short, beautiful years, My Ford Escort finally bit the dust. Like a loving parent, heart aching and in all manner of painful agony, I finally pulled the plug, and the front license plate came off with it.
I went to pick the Hot Rod (and don't anyone dare to call it anything else, it was a hot rod and that's how I shall always remember it dammit! I need a hug!) up after leaving it at my dad's house for him to work on, and he informed me that it was working fine, that he couldn't find anything wrong with it. I gleefully threw the keys to my 2004 taurus on the cold ground and ran to lovingly caress the aerodynamic pieces of trim half falling off my beloved, noting that instead of fixing one of the rear seatbelts so that the back seat would fold down someone just cut it off, and loved it even more. I got in, started it right up, and reveled in it's awesomeness as even though it was in neutral it said "Shift Up". I backed out of my parents driveway, the wife and kids in tow in the massively inferior Taurus, with it's stupid ability to go up hills and....heat, and took off like a shot, speeding up to a breakneck pace of 25 miles per hour! Already in 4th gear, I drove to the ghetto gas station to fill up, and marveled that 14 dollars completely filled my car up. I got back in, noticing the sex eyes being given to me by the local skanks (and dudes for some reason), and turned the key....nothing. I held the clutch down and tried again, and got the starter up, and it backfired loudly, scaring a few hooligans no doubt intent on rubbing their naked bodies against my car in hopes that such coolness could be transposed by osmosis.
What had happened? I tried over and over again, and nothing happened. I sadly got out of the car and with one hand pushed it over to the phone, and called my dad and AAA. Back at the house, we checked all the hoses, everything was in order, it just would not start. I have no shame in admitting I started bawling, and thought about laying spread eagle on the ground and masturbating furiously whilst crying, but it was muddy out so funk dat.
"But why is this post called 'Resurrection', Stevester?" You might be asking, wondering in earnest if I really was crying or not.
The reason why this post is titled 'Resurrection', is because just a few days ago my wife informed me of something that can only mean the spirit of my car had not died, just moved. Apparently her friend at work is wanting to sell her 1993 Ford Escort, which she says is a piece of crap that refuses to die, but she wants a car where parts don't fall off of it whenever she hits a speed bump and/ or surpasses 50 MPH. As my wife told me about this, I felt a flutter in my heart, and a tear came to my eye. Could it be? Was my Escort trying to reach me from beyond the grave? I asked with baited breath and cautious optimism if it was possible....shitty looking?
She informed me that it definitely was, and it was a stick, and I knew. You know when you see that special someone and you just know you were meant to be with that someone? When you think about you and that person together, your breath catches and your heart and soul fill with serene light as you revel in the thought that you had finally found your other half, how the cosmos had finally been tamed, how you had finally harnessed the beautiful language of love and felt ready to rule the world? Well I never felt that until I heard the Escort was a piece of crap, and then I knew. I knew we were meant to be together, and no one, not even the law, is going to keep me from being with my sweet ass Escort. This was further confirmed when she informed me that her friend wanted 200 dollars for said Escort, and that it really was a 200 dollar car. Over the next few weeks, I will regale you all with tales of how awesome the old Escort was, but hide your sadness like a wiener in a hot dog bun, waiting for your hapless victim to choose it from your strategically held hors d'ouvre tray, slathered in mustard and pulsating with happiness, because this story only took a twist, it has not ended.
As soon as I get it and get a chance to legalize and then awesometrize it, I will offer free rides to anyone who has the urge. Wait... that didn't sound right.