Stuff and Yossarian

There is a lot of stuff that isn't great. I have a long list. Here are a few things I particularly feel like bitching about.

Selling Your Awesome Old Beat Up Car:

I had a car. It was a white, 1986 Toyota Corona station wagon and it was the best car in the world. Sure, it was kind of crappy. If by "kind of" you mean "extremely," but it was mine and I'd put literally hundreds of hours into it keeping it alive and warranted. I tentatively called it Yossarian, after the character in Catch-22 who objects to being killed. It was my beach car. We did countless runs to awesome Northland beaches down incredibly shitty roads in it, stuff that you wouldn't expect of a four-wheel-drive. I had dozens of near-misses and two accidents, one my fault, the other not. People had spewed in it. It was full of sand and fossilised garbage. There was a slightly tangy smell about it I suspect came of too many fishing trips and missing bait. It was rusty, and obnoxiously noisy, because the previous owner had seen fit to equip it with a loudening exhaust. I had racked up thousands of dollars in fines in that car, much more than it was worth. I had even made out with girls in it. I made a hood ornament for it with a Dragonball Z figurine – Goku – which I super-glued to the front bumper. It was the greatest.

Then it opted to start overheating every time I turned it on. The last time I drove it (unregistered, unwarranted) was when I moved house. I had an actual tonne (or more) of stuff in the back and a double bed on the roof. It was overheating like mad and so I drove fast (more air keeps the engine cool, better than idling) and took a lot of back streets and ran a red light or so. Despite everything, it got me moved. I think I may have patted the dashboard and said "thanks." After that, it sat in my backyard for a couple of months until I decided it was time to flick it. It had gotten to the stage where getting any amount of money for it was a better deal than me spending money to fix it. So I sold it for $150 and boy was I cut up. I'd had it for nearly five years. Luckily, it was bought by the next-door neighbour and so I get to see it every day when I cycle past. It's up on blocks – the neighbour was quick to scavenge my crappy mag wheels – and I think his plan is to fix it and give it to his mum. I hope so. I'd rather someone was driving it than it getting turned into scrap straight away.

Whoa, that was lengthy. I've forgotten everything else I was meant to be complaining about now. Oh well. I'll remember.