I gave up on the car

I don't know if it was the right thing to do, but they wanted more than the Mazda was worth to get it to the point where the engine light wouldn't come on every ten minutes or so, and even then they wouldn't say it was for once and for all. I had been planning to replace the darned thing (which has been a thorn in my side since it was six months old -- in and out of the shop five times in less than six months because of something that sounded like a loose tennis ball in my trunk that they never did find the cause of, and that's just the beginning) year after next, anyway.

I'm single. I'm not a mechanic. I *need* reliable transportation. I'm lucky I've managed to pull this off two years ahead of schedule. But while I'm enjoying the new car, I'm feeling very ambivalent about why I wound up doing this now.

It's *my* life, darnit. Inanimate objects have no right to put their agendas ahead of mine.

The new car is awfully sweet, though. His name is Kestrel, because he's green (g).

(no subject)

Appropriated from hornedhopper:

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