They Shoot Cars, Don't They?

Yeah, it's turning out to be a typical Monday morning occurence now. Pedro, covered in frost, won't start. Fuck. Looks like it's time to put this pony down, or sell it to my old man or someone else who just needs a run-about to get 'em to the store and back.

I was really hoping Pedro would kick this non-starting bullshit. He's been a good little car and has taken more abuse than a little car should. And when he does decide to turn over, he goes down the road like a dream. Well, as long as like a dream means it needs an alignment, burns a little oil and not a lot of huevos. At any rate, this little car has been one helluva' a companion. We've hauled couches, wood- hell, I can't think of all the crap we've hauled in that car. He still has the funk of old man, dog and cigar smoke (odors that were there when I pulled him off the lot) and takes on water, but what else would you expect from a car of his vintage?

Adios, Pedro. In three weeks you'll have a new home. And me a different set of wheels.