Driving down the street with the top down, pulling into fourth gear, I zoom around the corner in my candy-red sports car checking out the hapless dopes as I effortlessly pass their comparably motionless vehicles. As I hit the strip, everyone looks up to admire my sleek ride, envying the ease with which I rolled by them in an aura of automotive ecstasy. Then I awake from my dream.
Besides the fact that I can't even drive a manual, my car is in reality a complete piece of shit, a turd colored brown 1992 Camry with so many things wrong with it that the mere fact that it runs has to be listed as one of the greatest miracles since Moses parted his superglued dentures (check out that amazing story in Exodus: The Revised Version). Where should I even begin to enumerate the rolodex of maladies from which the vehicle suffers? I could, on the other hand, go positive, and mention that the car does still have one of its hubcaps or that the heating system still works. That would be a much shorter form of documentation. Let us instead go down the road of negativity and examine the numerous flaws that make my Camry the loveable steaming pile that it has become. The picture located above is an artist's rendering of what my car might look like.
1. No air conditioner. That shit hasn't worked at all in several years. On the plus side, on a hot summer's day I can use the interior to cook my breakfast during my commute to work.
2. Missing three hubcaps. Shortly, when the last of the four falls off, I will have gone through two complete sets. The first was lost when my roommate Steve thought it might be funny to paint my hubcaps gold. In fact, it was not funny and his ass had to buy me another set. I should buy some new ones you say? Hubcaps are merely cosmetic and the Camry is one turd I am no longer trying to polish.
3. No cruise control. The lack of this system would bother me more if I thought the car could make the kind of lengthy road trip that having cruise control could make easier. I am just happy if I can make it out of the driveway. Californians are in no danger of spotting my vehicle on their home turf. Hell, Georgia is a long shot.
4. The computer system. According to my dashboard, the parking brake is constantly set. The old computer also claims that I am missing one of my taillights. Neither of these things are true, leading me to believe that my car's computer has significant brain damage.
5. The clock. My Toyota's timepiece works only when it wants to, which is very rarely. It is old and tired, so you can understand its feelings.
6. The passenger side. Good luck getting in, since the passenger door does not open. Don't make any plans for a Dukes of Hazzard entrance either, because the window does not go down on that side either.
7. Dent in the grill. I ran into a deer once during a rainstorm. The animal dented my grill and the Camry dented him in return. We will call it a tie.
8. Rear view mirror. I have one, but it is currently sitting on the backseat, where it frankly doesn't seem to be doing me much good. I guess I could hold it in my right hand and point it around, but they might prove difficult. Have to get back to you on the results of that experiment.
9. Tape player. Yes i have a tape player. No it doesn't work. Unless you like to listen to albums backwards to find out if they have a hidden meaning. I recommend rocking out "Stairway to Heaven."
10. Dried blood in the backseat. I have been stabbed. Feel free to ask me about the experience. I should note that it was not the car's fault.
11. Crack in the windshield. It is just a small, round crack. If I lean my head to the right, I can look right around it while driving. No worries.
All that being said, I do indeed love my Camry regardless of its assorted faults. Look on the bright side - at least I don't have to use a bungee cord to keep it from falling apart. The engine has passed well over the 200,000 mile plateau and is still humming along nicely. Who knows, maybe the old girl will give me another year of fun and excitement. It could always be worse - I could have an American car. Or my brother's - for a look at his entry in the world's crappiest car contest, read the comments below.
