Here’s to you, Smokey Carson.

So, I got my car back last weekend. I was sad to give up my dad's truck.
He plunked down a good chunk of change last week after the car broke down on his way back from the lake. Turns out the massive oil leak had screwed up vital electrical parts in the engine. He had all the belts replaced and a lot of the oil leak patched up, but not ALL of it. If they were going to fix all of the leaks they would have had to pull out the engine to get to it, and this would have cost more money. At this point my dad has spent more money on that car than it's worth, so we're just going to cross our fingers that it lasts until May.
Well, I got back to Denton without any problems. The engine smokes though, due to oil dripping onto different parts. And I have to check the oil pretty frequently. Oh, and there's a leak in the power steering fluid hose, so I have to check that all the time too.
Although this car gives me a headache, literally, I would never wish it dead. I know the importance of being careful what I wish for, and it gets me around.
It's like an old friend. We go way back, and we've bonded through all the rough times we've been in together. Getting smashed by an 18-wheeler; getting smashed by careless drivers; the spider infestation of Spring '05; hearing derogatory comments from beer-bellied men, shocked at the sight of a little girl like myself checking things out under the hood; receiving the Weezer and I Hate Reel Big Fish stickers, handed down from the Corolla after the flood of Spring '01; the list goes on.

I have a little song that I like to sing to it from time to time. Like to hear it? Here it goes (sung to the tune of Davie Crockett): Smokey! Smokey Carson! You are a very bad car!


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