Awwwwooooooo! Awwwwwoooooooooo! I feel like throwing myself on the hood and howling like one of those burqa ladies.
Look at him! Look at his happy, smiling face. He doesn’t know where he’s going. He doesn’t know what they’re going to do to him. Bastards.
The alternator light came on at seven this morning, and just past the “4 miles to I-495” sign it boiled over. I pulled onto the curb trailing clouds of glory.
Water pump. That wouldn’t be so bad, but the head gasket’s been leaking for a couple of years and the head mechanic, a little man with an improbable amount of curly white facial hair, reckoned that one good overheat was enough to finish it. He looked at me and said, “It’s time.”
Nooooooooooo! Eighteen years and 214,000 miles is not enough!