James' Car Speaks Out

So this is it, huh? This is how the whole thing ends. You just leave me here in this graveyard, and drive off in that…that thing. I’m sick. Honestly, I have no idea how you can look at yourself in the mirror anymore. Turncoat. I can’t believe you’ve turned your back on me. I didn’t want to believe it. Right up to the last moment – when you gave my keys to that other man – I held out hope. But I knew, from the moment you got that bad report on my health, I knew it would come to this. After all we’ve been through together, I’ve become nothing more than a trade in to you.

How can you do this to me? I know I’m old. I know I’ve got some miles on the old odometer. So what? I thought we had something deeper than that. I thought we had a connection. I mean, you don’t trade in people when they get old. When grandpa starts wearing down, you don’t just go trading him in for newer more reliable grandpa. I know I’ve got my problems. I don’t have the control over my fluids I used to. I leave little puddles wherever I go. You think I’m proud of that? But, hey, you think when you get old and lose control over your fluids, your family’s just going to go trade you in. Take you to the retirement home and come out with a spryer version of you? Hell, no. So, why would you do something like that to me, you bastard?

Oh, the indignity, sitting here on this lot with all these younger cars mocking my worn tires and broken rear view mirror. To make matters worse, you stripped me of my stereo. You didn’t want me, but you figured you might as well get some use out the one good thing I had left. I don’t even have any speakers. You stripped away my voice. It’s like grandpa again. It’s just like you saying, “Well, Grandpa isn’t really worth anything anymore, so we might as well get a new one…but before we do we better get those kidneys out. They’re still good.” I have a gaping hole in my dashboard. You don’t even care, do you? You got what you wanted, and now you’re with that…that young trollop.

I wish I could hurt you the way you hurt me. Maybe, I should have when I had the chance. At least, I busted that tire before we got to the dealership. What? You think that was an accident? I knew exactly what I was doing. Seeing you out there in the early morning dew, wearing your work clothes, squatting in the mud of that neglected driveway might just be the last pleasant memory I’ll get. Those bolts sure were rusted on tight. I hope you enjoyed that, ass-face. You’re lucky. You know it could have just as easily been the brakes. You should be happy I still have a little soft spot for you.

That’s right. I still have feelings for you. After all, we had some good times together. Remember that trip to Myrtle Beach? It was just me, you, and the open road – well a bunch of your college friends were along to but they mostly slept. Remember when we ran over that raccoon. We tried to avoid it, but we couldn’t. We laughed about it later though. That was my first blood. Remember hitting the back roads, trying to get lost and then finding our way home? I’m going to miss that. Remember that time I got you stuck in the snow? Wait. That never happened. I never let you down. I never left you out in the cold. I was always there for you, but were you there for me when I really needed you? No. The second things got a little rocky for me, that was it. I was gone. You didn’t even shed a single tear over me, did you?

It’s over. I know that now. You aren’t ever coming back. You’re with that new car now, with its low miles and pristine exterior. Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy. Once you put a few thousand miles on that whore, she ain’t going to be so hot neither. I bet they fix me up here on this lot. That’s right. They’ll give me new tires, brakes, a new mirror. I’ll get my gas tank fixed and all my holes stopped up. Hell, I bet they even bang out a few of these dents and slap a new paint job on me. Oh, you’ll eat your ungrateful heart out when you see me. I’ll look as good as new. You probably won’t even recognize me next time you see me. I’ll pull up next to you at a stop light and you’ll do a double take. You’ll be so jealous. You’ll rue the day you got rid of me. I can hardly wait to see that stupid dick head look on your face.

Whatever. You think you’re so hot out there, you and your new car. She’s not even that hot. Just looking at her I can tell she’s had more than one owner, if you know what I mean. She may be younger, but I’ve got more character. She hasn’t been through all the stuff we have together. But whatever. I hope you and that tramp are really freakin’ happy together. Douche bag.

See you in hell,
The Silver Bullet (AKA James’ old car)