Goodbye, Earl
Well, we sold Earl last night. Our 1991 Dodge Dynasty LE (the “Grandma Car” as Miss Katie fondly called him) now belongs to a new kid. Miss Katie inherited my sister’s car last month, and she didn’t need two vehicles or insurance payments, which meant one of them had to go. That’s you, Earl. Sorry pal, but you drew the low end of the dipstick.
Earl was an okay car – he wasn't a Mercedes, but he wasn't a Gremlin, either. He was big, heavy, and old, but he was clean and ran well, so what he lacked in handsome looks he made up for in reliability. Plus, he’s got brand new tires, a kick-ass stereo system (Miss Katie’s Christmas present last month – boy, is she ticked that we included it with the sale!), a new battery, a new muffler, and a great big love dent in the door, courtesy of that stupid broad who backed into him in the mall parking lot last June.
So now we’re down to three cars in our house – my convertible, the Lovely Mrs. G’s Blazer, and Miss Katie’s newly inherited Mercury. And that’s plenty – I don’t want to be one of “those people” who collect rust buckets in their yard, never really intending on fixing them up, no matter how much we talk it up.
Our neighbor across the street is “one of those people” – he owns a fairly new pickup and a new van, but he drives this piece of shit old Datsun around town, has a rusted out pickup that sits on the street full of tree branches for most of the year, and has two more rusting cars parked next door in his mother’s yard. I’ve never actually seen him work on any of them, but there they sit, collecting dust, squirrel poop, and slowly rusting back into oblivion.
Fortunately, Earl won’t be joining that scrap heap yet. The kid (and his Mom) who bought him will take good care of Earl, I’m sure. The kid is just finishing driver’s ed., and needed a good first car. Tell you what – Earl is your man. Car. Man-car. You get my point.
So goodbye, Earl. May you bring someone else happiness, too. Just don’t crank that stereo too loud when you’re driving past my house late at night, if you know what’s good for you.
Earl was an okay car – he wasn't a Mercedes, but he wasn't a Gremlin, either. He was big, heavy, and old, but he was clean and ran well, so what he lacked in handsome looks he made up for in reliability. Plus, he’s got brand new tires, a kick-ass stereo system (Miss Katie’s Christmas present last month – boy, is she ticked that we included it with the sale!), a new battery, a new muffler, and a great big love dent in the door, courtesy of that stupid broad who backed into him in the mall parking lot last June.
So now we’re down to three cars in our house – my convertible, the Lovely Mrs. G’s Blazer, and Miss Katie’s newly inherited Mercury. And that’s plenty – I don’t want to be one of “those people” who collect rust buckets in their yard, never really intending on fixing them up, no matter how much we talk it up.
Our neighbor across the street is “one of those people” – he owns a fairly new pickup and a new van, but he drives this piece of shit old Datsun around town, has a rusted out pickup that sits on the street full of tree branches for most of the year, and has two more rusting cars parked next door in his mother’s yard. I’ve never actually seen him work on any of them, but there they sit, collecting dust, squirrel poop, and slowly rusting back into oblivion.
Fortunately, Earl won’t be joining that scrap heap yet. The kid (and his Mom) who bought him will take good care of Earl, I’m sure. The kid is just finishing driver’s ed., and needed a good first car. Tell you what – Earl is your man. Car. Man-car. You get my point.
So goodbye, Earl. May you bring someone else happiness, too. Just don’t crank that stereo too loud when you’re driving past my house late at night, if you know what’s good for you.
posted by Tommy G at
8:39 AM
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