You rub against your fender and a huge pile of rust settles on the ground.

Your passengers have to get out and walk because you can’t make it up the hill.

You accelerate and brake really hard when you drive somebody’s new car because you’re used to sticky pedals.

You hold a contest to see who can make the biggest dent on your hood.

You can’t tell if the road is bumpy, or if the duct tape just needs to be replaced.

Changing your oil and putting air in your tires is a weekly habit.

You can’t hear the stereo over the rattling noises.

You’ve paid more for repairs than you originally paid for your car and the repairman knows you by name.

You no longer lock your car doors. Not only because you haven’t the slightest worry of your car being stolen, but because you’re afraid that you might not be able to get it open again if you do.

The only time your cruise works is when you are being towed.

I’m beginning to wonder if females shouldn’t be allowed to drive. My brother just got rear ended in a fast food drive through a couple days ago by a girl driver. And just this morning there was this lady following about two feet behind me going 55. Are they just impatient, or is it a more complex mental problem that women have? They sure can play basketball, but driving? Whatever the case may be, something must be done to ensure the safety of everyone else on the road. And this isn’t exactly comforting, considering that the Death Clock says that I have exactly 1,711,519,492 seconds to live.