A Message from the Car
Dear Vehicle Owner:
I think it is about time that we get a few things clear, and I
don't mean my windshield. I am not satisfied with the way you
are treating me. First of all, you are driving me too
fast. I am not a sports car. I thought for sure you were going
to rear end that little Subaru in front of us the other day.
It was so afraid it changed lanes. Please slow down! I do not
want to end up in the junkyard before my life is half over.
Then there is the matter of hygiene. When is the last time you
took me to the car wash? You can't remember, can you? I am
filthy. It is embarrassing. When I was parked next to the
shiny new Ferrari in the parking garage, I could not even
blink my lights at her as I knew her motor would be turned off
by my appearance.
My interior is also a disgrace. I look like a motor home. What
is all that stuff in my cargo area? I'll tell you what it is:
Junk, pure junk: Ice scrapers, sun shields, umbrellas,
sunglasses, paper towels, CD's, rags, old receipts, broken
tools, and empty paper cups. Stuff rolls around in my cargo
area gathering dust and giving me an interior complex.
The gas you have been pumping in me gives me indigestion,
always from the cheapest gas station you can find, always
regular, never premium. Am I not worthy of a little special
treatment once in a while? You just take it for granted that I
will continue to be dependable, regardless of whether you keep
my tank full or my oil changed. One of the days I am going to
break down and leave you stranded. That will serve you right.
You should not have cancelled my On Star service.
My tire treads are starting to get a bit worn. It is difficult
to live life in the fast lane, never knowing whether I will
have a blowout. Do you ever check my tires? Do you want to
have to call the Emergency Road Service again to rescue us on
the Interstate? All the other cars drive by honking at me and
shaking their tailpipes. I feel like such a loser.
Have you even read my user's manual? What if one of my
dashboard warning lights came on? You would not have the
faintest idea what to do and would just keep driving. I can't
tell you anything. You will not listen to warnings. When you
burn up my engine maybe you will be satisfied.
All you do is play my radio. Do you ever consider that I might
want to listen to another station? If I try to change the dial
to something soft and soothing, you change it right back. You
never listen to Car Talk or Bumper to Bumper. That is why I
try to freeze you to death with my air conditioner. I am
hoping you will get the message.
Life is a bore, spending every day in a parking garage, never
going on a long road trip or seeing any sights. Other cars
have been to California, Florida, or Yellowstone. I have
nothing to brag about, no national parks, no trips to the
beach or mountains, not even a getaway at the race track.
You are going to wear me out and then trade me in on a younger
model. I know your plan. I give you the best years of my life
and what do I get in return? Hoodwinked. I'm getting old in
car years. But I might as well shut off my windshield wipers
and blow my horn. I suppose there is nothing a car can do
about feeling used.