Some thoughts about cars.

     Sitting out back with a bottle of Honest Ade Half and Half Tea and a cigar.  I couldn't help but reflect upon some past car stories that occured to me.

     My first car I inherited from my mom.  When I say inherited I mean she got a newer one and I was given the 10 year old beastie.  Had some vinyl roof issues, peeling and such.  It was a recall thing that my folks never took care of.

     Well my best friend, we were 17 and 18 respectively worked for someone who said he could fix it.  Long story short he'd had it for over 1 month.  My dad was livid about this.  Phone calls went unanswered (I miss spell check terribly).  To make matters worse, the so called mechanic was seen driving the car around town.  Mom placed a call saying if it was not returned immediately the police would be called.  It was left curbside the next morning, filthy inside and out.

     Go to the 90's.  I had a little Blue 4 cylinder Toyota Corrolla.  Now this is when 4 cylinder cars really struggled to get to speed.  We'd found a new mechanic, little crooked fellow.  Seemed nice enough.

     My car developed alternator problems.  I believe the issue was it would stall out over 25 miles an hour.  Not a thing you want happeneing.  We put in 3 before we called it quits.  I asked him to junk it for me.  Mistake.

     Some time later, weeks or months can't remember, I came home after a night in the city.  Mom was there with a friend of the family who asked where'd I been.  Puzzling.  Come to find out, her son who was a cop had been involved in a high speed chase.  A chase of a little Blue Toyota Corrolla.

     Unfortunately the suspects, after smashing into a few cars escaped.  Upon reaching the car the most noticable things were.  The I Love Jesus bumper stickers all over the trunk.  And the only paper work in the glove box was....the title with my name on it.  Luckily for me I had the receipt of the destruction of the license plates so wasn't liable.  I still remember going back to that mechanic.

"Mike..."obviously his name, "...who did you sell my car to?"

I remember he blinked a few times then smiled slightly.

"I sold it to a few guys behind the restaurant down the road.  Why?" he asked squinting.

"Well I want their names."

"I don't know them.  Is there a problem?"

"Yes...."  I remember getting loud at this point, "...you see they're apparently a shitload better at fixing cars than you are you jackass.  The car you couldn't fix, was just involved in a high speed chase with the police and my title which I gave you was in the glove box."

     That was the end of my relationship with him.  My mom and sister continued.  To a point that is.  You see she junked a car with him as well.  I warned her to keep the title and the reciept for the destruction of the plates.

     Well long story shortened, she recieves a call from an impound lot in another county, a few months later.  Seems her car had been impounded and she was liable for the money.  Well yadda yadda yadda, luckily she had that destruction reciept so it was the last we heard from the police on that matter.  And they finally stopped going to Mike as well.