The side of the bottom portion of the driver’s seat is held together by duct tape, the yellowish stuffing visible in parts. Duct tape is also used to secure the edges of the front bumper to the main body of the car, preventing excessive flapping in the highway breeze. The automatic transmission has given up on first, second and reverse, which leaves third, fourth and fifth gear to get around, straightforwardly. The heater turns on when you go over a bump, though not always. The driver’s side windshield wiper no longer works, so when it’s raining you can either lean your head towards the right to get the clearer view from shotgun, or stick it to the left and out the window, Ace Ventura style.
It needs an extra quart of oil every thousand miles or so. The key can be removed from the ignition regardless of whether the car is running, which can be a fun little trick to freak people out. Ever since your mother backed into it in her driveway, the whole thing has smelled a strange dirty rotten smell. No one can figure it’s source; it must’ve been an ill-fated squirrel somehow caught inside the door frame at the wrong place and the wrong time, wedged there forever between crumpled aluminum. It persisted even after getting banged out and detailed though, so who knows. The power steering hasn’t worked since God knows when.
The rear axle is bent. It’s cheaper to just buy a new tire every now and again than have that thing replaced.
When it snows it’s probably best to just stay put for a while. A hole rusted through the gas tank, though it’s on the top so it only loses fuel from evaporation, not leakage. The rear axle is bent. It’s cheaper to just buy a new tire every now and again than have that thing replaced. The driver’s side window either doesn’t go down or doesn’t go up, like a victim of selective inertia. It may or may not have a bad alternator, or some loose wiring somewhere.
It gets okay gas mileage, all things considered. It’s got a drift and a rattle that no number of alignments can seem to fix. It has rarely truly failed to travel from Point A to Point B, though occasionally this necessitates a swing through Point C.
The damn thing works.