#41 ·
A car is a useful way to get around, sure, but for me, it’s so much more than that.
I love tinkering with it, keeping it spotless, and looking after it—it actually stings a bit when people don't "get" it, or worse, call it an eyesore (as if their own ride isn't doing the exact same thing).
Honestly, I spend most of my free time detailing it or adding new gadgets—stuff that might not even be practical, but looks sharp and adds value, which, let's face it, is basically increasing my own ego by proxy.
It kills me when someone scratches it, or god forbid, if there’s a fender bender—so half the time I’m tempted to just leave it tucked away in the garage, or better yet, put it in a showroom window. If people can't see its beauty, its importance, and its sheer dominance, then what’s even the point?
Anyway, in this crowded world—between the gridlock, the road hazards, and those insane gas prices and repair bills—it’s hard to actually let the engine breathe or hit top speed. But when I describe it to the neighbors, I see some are genuinely impressed, while others are just bitter, thinking their own cars are somehow superior—which, obviously, they aren't.
At the end of the day, my car is my favorite thing in the world. I love it more than anything.
I love tinkering with it, keeping it spotless, and looking after it—it actually stings a bit when people don't "get" it, or worse, call it an eyesore (as if their own ride isn't doing the exact same thing).
Honestly, I spend most of my free time detailing it or adding new gadgets—stuff that might not even be practical, but looks sharp and adds value, which, let's face it, is basically increasing my own ego by proxy.
It kills me when someone scratches it, or god forbid, if there’s a fender bender—so half the time I’m tempted to just leave it tucked away in the garage, or better yet, put it in a showroom window. If people can't see its beauty, its importance, and its sheer dominance, then what’s even the point?
Anyway, in this crowded world—between the gridlock, the road hazards, and those insane gas prices and repair bills—it’s hard to actually let the engine breathe or hit top speed. But when I describe it to the neighbors, I see some are genuinely impressed, while others are just bitter, thinking their own cars are somehow superior—which, obviously, they aren't.
At the end of the day, my car is my favorite thing in the world. I love it more than anything.