dead car desires spiritual freedom – nirvana later realized
11 May 2011 § Leave a comment
It’s amazing how such a pain in the ass can make you smile sometimes.
Remember that car I bought a couple of months ago, because I was an idiot and crashed my baby into the back of a truck? Of course you don’t. But that’s okay. The one I bought was a little piece of work by Suzuki that didn’t belong in Alaska, especially in the winter. A commuter car, made for the big city, dry roads, and no highways. It sounded like a lawnmower, and wasn’t much more powerful. I drove it into Anchorage for one writer’s circle at Trey’s cafe, and the next time I drove it, it died.
It even had a ‘Prohibited Oct – Apr’ sticker on the windshield. I can’t imagine why that was there. The tires spun more than a heroin junkie in a Las Vegas motel room. I had to swallow my pride and my shame every time I steered with my knees to take a hit under the streetlights, because the dashglow didn’t work.
Anyway. It’s been sitting in the driveway as a reminder of my list of favorite fuck-ups since I moved back to Alaska. I was a little worried the landlord might say something now that the snow melted, and he’s around more often working in the yard when he’s not keeping your houses and businesses from burning to the ground. Go landlord guy.
I put the car up on craigslist this morning, something I probably should have done months ago, but because I revel in self-deprecation and needed the reminder for a while, I didn’t. By the time I skated across mid-town to get rejected by the girl at the REI counter, I’d already gotten two calls. I love craigslist. Here’s the ad:
Dead car desires spiritual freedom.
Let’s be real. I made a mistake.
I bought a 1990 Suzuki Swift for $250. Haven’t heard of it? Neither had I. For good reason.
I drove it from Wasilla to Anchorage the day I got it, and it died at the Muldoon exit. I walked down the street to have a beer while the streetlights mourned the car’s passing. I towed it back to my house in Chugiak, and here it sits like an abandoned golf cart after hell froze over. But it’s really nice out today, so it doesn’t look so bad. Either way, I want it gone.
So if you’ve ever wanted to seem a little more Alaskan, here’s your chance. We’re great at storing broken vehicles in our yards – you know, the ones we’ll get around to fixing one day. But I’m leaving, so I have to sacrifice that bit of validity.
I’m sure, with a little love and affection, this little stick-shift could be a blast of a summer beater for you. Alternatively, if you have pent up stress from that horrid winter that just ended, take a baseball bat and go to town on the windows. You’ll feel a lot better afterward. I promise. Just get it out of my driveway first.
You could probably push it, it’s so light. I thought about pushing it off a bluff into the sea, but I’m kind of an environmentalist, so I couldn’t actually bring myself to do that. I also thought about blowing it up. That could be really cool. Are you making a film, and want to feature a real explosion, instead of using stock footage? Here you go.
Do what you like. Cut off the roof and make it into a convertible. Turn it into a dog house, a chicken coop, an organic garden, a chemistry lab, your secret hiding place for porn or upcoming birthday presents. The trunk is surprisingly big – you could probably fit a couple of bodies in there. The possibilities are endless – after you take it away.
If you’re artsy, mechanically-minded, or a little crazy and want a piece-of-shit car as an outlet for your whatevers, send me an email, text, or call, and we’ll work something out. Like you coming to my driveway to houdini this car from my sight.
I’m not putting my number in there because you might be a creep who trolls facebook and wordpress and craigslist looking for innocent prey to your telemarketing scam or lame horror movie prank call knock-off. Trust me. I’ve seen it. Won’t fall for it. Want to see a good movie? Try Black Snake Moan. Better yet, try Spun. That seems fitting. Has Christina Ricci ever been in a film with John Leguizamo? What a trip that would be. Can’t wait for it.
Right. The car is gone, and I’ve burdened myself with enough stress over the last couple of semesters to not really feel it when something like that’s lifted off my shoulders, so to speak. So much for the ‘way of the peaceful warrior’ thing. Maybe I should read that book again. Maybe you should, too. It’s summer now – we can do what we like. Finally, I can do something more than just look at my overloaded bookshelf and sigh. I’ll put a few in my backpack. I’m going to start hitching again. I hear Ethiopia is bloody hot this time of year. I could go for that.
Oh, while I’m talking about mindless travel, I might as well mention it: I’m going to Costa Rica in September under the guise of ‘study abroad.’ Really, I just want to learn Spanish, explore the jungle, and run some whitewater rivers. And all the other cool stuff people do in Costa Rica. And go to college at the same time.
This stay-at-home garbage isn’t for me. But I’d like to get some more uni out of the way. You know, rack up some more debt, so when the economy completely collapses, the numbers will be bigger, more drastic, and the statistics will be a little more laughable. And I’ll be somewhere east of Skardu, looking down at the Karakoram from the giant pyramid in the clouds.