Car Killer

My name is Tyler Hall and I am a car killer.

I’m not sure if this is a compliment or not. On the one hand it sucks that every car I own dies on me and I have to sink as much money into fixing them as I did buying them. But on the other hand it’s a flattering and humbling to know that I have been chosen as the person to help lead these cars on to the next stage of their life.

I’ve hated almost every second of it.

Jerk Pants
The few seconds I didn’t hate involved my first car, Jerk Pants. He was a Plymouth Acclaim I inherited from my parents. Jerk Pants wasn’t always a jerk. When he came to me he was known as the Scotsmobile. But then we lost the plush Scotsmen that was supposed to be always inside it and we had to rename (I know you stole it Chel).

The name Jerk Pants seemed appropriate. Sometimes it would start and sometimes it wouldn’t. Filling up for gas was a treat because you never knew if it would start again once you were full. I had some close calls while filling up at the Cactus Corner.

Jerk Pants was also the car that was stolen twice in three weeks. It’s wasn’t all bad because the rental I got was way sweeter then my car.

There were some good things about this car. He was reliable. And by that I mean it would always be the same thing that broke. Every year or so I would have to change the starter because an oil leak that was too expensive to fix would fry its wires. There was never a mystery about what was wrong with Jerk Pants. Until the end, that is.

In his final kilometers he started making weird noises. It sounded like a pod racer from Starwars.More specifically, Sebulba’s (geeks will know what I’m talking about). It was cool to have a car that sounded like that but that sound was killing Jerk Pants. Plus it was so loud that I had trouble having a conversation in my car.

I have nothing but animosity for my next car, Herjon, a 95 saturn. A piece of crap really. One of the worst purchases ever made. It never really worked and I don’t think I went for more then a few months without it breaking down. Where ever you are now, I just want you to know I hate you Herjon.

My brother named this car. SBS stands for Stinging Bullet of Shame. It’s a very appropriate name for this 92 Mazda Protege. I think I had it for a week before it crapped out on me. Cool stuff. It’s going into the shop tomorrow. I can’t wait to find out what’s wrong with it and how much it is going to cost to fix it.

Incidentally, don’t judge me for naming my cars. One of my friends told me only girls name their cars but I don’t think that’s true. Everyone in my family names their cars. It’s what the cool people are doing. Also, I name my computer Apple Hardcore and my iPod Protagonist.

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