I guess I should be grateful to have a car in NYC since 90% of my friends don’t have one (or I should take the hint, get rid of it and commit to mass transit). However, I still need it to get to gigs when I perform outside the city.
If potassium-packed bananas measured healthiness, my 1990 Honda Accord would be about to go into a Terry Schiavo-like coma.
It’s like the Millenium Falcon except that my shitty car can’t make a Kessel Run in under twelve parsecs. It barely is able to get to 88 mph. Even if I equipped it with a Flux Capacitor, I still wouldn’t be able to time travel because I would never reach the target speed.
No AC, the defroster is barely operational, my heater is stuck on the setting ‘Taint of Satan’, someone smashed my right side mirror, all my wheel covers have been stolen, an unknown leak keeps soaking my back seat, brakes are shot, my inside driver door handle is broke, my tape cassette player is broken (notice it’s not even a CD player) and I’ve heard kids on the subway with cellphone speakers better than my “sound system”.
Awesome!
Last week, my buddy and I were driving up to Albany. We were getting bored so we turned on the radio. As we were dialing through the stations, we came across a classic rock station that was playing Nine Inch Nails’ Closer. It made me feel like crap on two different levels.
One: They were playing NIN on a “classic” rock station which made me feel old.
Two: Hearing NIN on a victrola.
I envisioned Trent Reznor doing the Charleston and singing,
“I want to fuck you like an animal…boop-boop-pee-doo.”
