What a piece of junk! As I stand outside of my house on a cold February.
morning, I stare at my truck, a1992 Ford Explorer which looks like a big teal box .
with not a hint of a curve or a rounded surface except for the wheels. The antenna juts .
out of the hood like a sword, the sagging front bumper, and the numerous scratches, .
scrapes, and dents. Obviously this truck has seen better days. As I stare at my truck, my eyes fill with anger as I watch the oil drip, slowly like molasses. It oozes out from underneath the truck like blood. At this point, I don't care if I"m late for school, as long as I get there in one piece. I jump into the truck, sit down on the torn, stiff cloth seat and look at the dull interior that is abound with a sea of black and beige plastics and the oddly proportioned dash shaped like a slanted, upside down L and a steering wheel shaped like a boomerang.
As I put the key into the ignition and turn it, slowly the truck roughly growls to life . . . then it dies. One more time, as I turn the key, the engine cranks and breathes back to life. As I drive down the road, I start to see smoke billowing from underneath the hood (This is a regular occurrence). I roll my eyes, find the nearest gas station and buy a bottle of oil for the second time this week. Finally, I get back onto the road and, in the distance, I can see my school perched between the hills. As I travel down the road the truck bounces up and down and from side to side, as if it were a deranged amusement park ride. As I finally enter my school and parked the box, I get out of the death trap from which smoke is still billowing from underneath the hood and run to class.
A week after this day I finally got rid of the unreliable piece of junk and got a nimble reliable fun to drive car that I am happy with. as I drive down the road and if I see the same truck, my eyes are filled with fire and I spontaneously start to curse.