Vroom Vroom....

Or not, as the case may be.

There are some serious car demons going around at the mo.
Take my mighty blue beast. Its leaking water. Not particularly serious, I know, but when you're a) driving to Dunedin next weekend, b) driving to Wanaka soon after that, c) live on a hill and d) planning on selling the beast in a month or so, this is not good. Hopefully it won't cost exorbitant amount to fix.
I'm doing better than my sister. She took her car for a warrant on Monday, and it passed with flying colours. Not a prob. Two days later, it makes a funny sound for a few minutes, and then dies.
Deader than Elvis. As fucked as a two dollar whore. Deader than a dead thing that just died. As much use as a truckload of dead rats at a tampon factory. Demonstrating about as much life as Michael Jackson's singing career. As screwed as Paris Hilton.
I think you get the picture.
As for my dad? Well he bought a new car about six weeks ago. Very pretty and shiny, but unfortunately it has developed a rather disturbing odour of burning plastic whenever it is running. And now is sitting in the garage waiting for Mercedes to get their shit together to either fix or replace it.
Perhaps as a collective we have done something to piss off the Car Gods (Toyotus, Mercedium, Hondaria and Big boss Motherfucking god of things that run on Wheels). Perhaps the planet is trying to tell us to stop mining her precious oil resources and invent a car that runs on hydrogen, or dead leaves, or poo.
Or maybe the universe just hates us for being so damn good-looking!!!

Yeah, that'll be it.