06.17 - The Altima

The car I currently drive is nearly 14 years old and I refuse to spend any more money on repairing it. It started out as the family car and then became mine and my brother's shared car and eventually became just mine. It has been through everything with me-- high school, college, past college, church retreats, short weekend roadtrips, and even that stint I did in cell phone frequency testing (yeah, don't ask). It is scraped up, bruised up, and beaten up. In "dog years," my car is 98 years old. And it shows:

• The cover of the middle console is permanently separated from its body-- so if you rest your elbow on it, it'll plop off
• All the hubcaps are missing
• The driver's side visor is no longer present-- I have to block the sun with Post-Its
• The radio antenna is broken and bent
• The passenger side mirror is cracked and held up with black duct tape
• The heat and air conditioning only work on the highest level
• The windshield wiper fluid reservoir is cracked so it can't hold fluid therefore I can't clean my windshield. I have to stop at gas stations a lot and I almost died one rainy, muddy day.
• When I drive or even when I'm idle, it sounds like metal clashing against metal
• When I brake, it sounds like metal being suffocated by metal
• When it rains and I drive, metal is having an all-out war
• When it rains, water seeps into the trunk and wets everything back there
• The aroma of male volleyball players' feet is permanent and lasting
• When I hit a pothole, the entire body of the car shakes in a way that makes me think it'll eventually fall off the frame
• The locks are broken so when I lock the doors, I have to remember to leave at least one door unlocked or I won't be able to get in with a key
• If I find that all the doors have been locked, I have to resort to climbing in through the trunk

So what does this have to do with food, you ask? A few times now in the past two weeks, I've gone through a fast food drive-thru-- and each time, the car will be so loud that I can't hear the person on the intercom. So . . . I've had to turn off the car. In a drive-thru. And then had to start it up again. So I could leave. *awkward, shifty eyes* Yeaaahh . . . But you know what? Even though Al is old and decrepit, he's been good to me and, no matter how embarrassing, I'll continue taking him through drive-thrus for as long as he chooses to live.