Spare some fluid?

I miss my first car sometimes. A '74 Datsun hatchback. Once upon a time, it was probably fire engine red, but by the time I took delivery of said vehicle for $400 and a stereo, it was a faded pink red color. I never once locked the car even when I parked it in bad neighborhoods. Noone with a sound mind would be interested in stealing it. It certainly had no chick appeal. No promise of the wild throes of passion lay in the back seat. Just an old pair of crutches in the back window that I acquired a few months before in a 'roll the van 3 times' accident that should have left me dead.

The tires were bald. I don't mean bald as in the tread was low. These suckers would have passed for racing slicks (albeit skinny ones). I drove as though the tires were coming off every time I hit the gas. That doesn't mean slow, it means being ready to bail at any point in the drive.

The seats were so bad they were covered with faux sheepskin covers to keep you from losing your manhood on a spring. There was a hole in the exhaust pipe that was covered with a piece of tin that was tied on with bailing wire. That came loose and cost me $10 and $70 for a new muffler when I roared past a motorcycle cop who was offended by the fact that I was poor.

The final push over the edge was the master cylinder pumping brake fluid into the body of the cabin under every time I hit the brake pedal. I drove it to a dealer and worked out a deal on a Volkswagon Fox the next day. It only took 2-3 cans of brake fluid to get me there.

The police wrote me a letter in another state a few months later and told me to come get my abandoned car. I laughed and told them the name of the car dealer that had abandoned it. I wonder where it is now.


Something like this.