As my housemate Cara’s smashed rear window can attest, being a car is rough. But as Cara’s bank account can attest, being a car-owner is infinitely worse.
After a recent fenderbendernearmiss that yielded–besides a visit to the local police station and the perfunctory phone call to Dad–nothing, I thought my car troubles were behind me. But as I discovered when my car wouldn’t start this Sunday afternoon, neither man nor Swede can create a perfect machine.
A quick game of car-ownership two truths and a lie (or is it two lies and a truth?):
1. Car ownership is the leading cause of ramen-only diets among young people.
2. The best thing we can hope for in life is a friend with a car, ie: a friend who bankrolls our grocery store runs and rides to the airport.
3. Like the color printer I once abandonded in the basement of a North Dorm because it was out of ink, I will leave my car on the street in front of my house until I forget it’s mine and someone comes and tows it away. Goodbye cruel world!