Hell And Back

If cars could talk, I think most of them would probably just be complaining all the time. Loudly. They would whine about not having their oil changed often enough, about speed bumps, or maybe about kids spilling drinks inside them. Some of them would most likely piss and moan about not getting to “stretch their legs” on the open road often enough. Others would be begging to be painted a different color, or even to simply be run through a car wash every once in a while. A few of the grievances would be understandable, but for the most part, nobody would have anything real to complain about.

In a crowded parking lot world populated by obnoxious loudmouth econoboxes desperately vying for your attention, this guy would be way in the back by himself, staring at the ground, reluctant to even speak. There would be an awkward silence for what would have felt like an eternity, after which he would pick his weary head up, look you dead in the eye, and you two would share a brief moment of understanding. Just before you start to turn and walk the other way, a hoarse, gravelly voice- barley audible over the din of the parking lot- would utter “I’ve seen some shit”.

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About Mike Ross

I love anything you can drive. But I love it even more if it has a small block Chevy or Ford motor, a turbo, four wheel drive, is a hatchback, or was made in the 80s. My ideal car would be a combination of all of these things, and I'm working on building a time machine so I can go back to the 80's and convince Chevy and Ford to collaborate on a twin-engine, single turbo 4x4 XR4Ti/Fox Mustang/Third Gen F-body and hide one in a mineshaft for me to recover in brand new condition. Look for a blog post about it just as soon as it happens. Or maybe it already did, and I've already posted about it in the future and the internet just needs to catch up with it. Okay, my head hurts, never mind.