“I’ll take it,” the old man grumbled as the salesman tossed him the keys. Here I was again, a last resort. Nothing but a cheap car that you use for a year or two just to get you by. Nobody wanted me. Nobody loved me. I had no friends. I was tossed around from dealership to dealership like a piece of scrap metal. Sure people appreciated me, but only for a year or two when I saved them from their financial problems and got them back on their feet again.

   I watched as Jake, a slick red Ferrari, rumbled off to his fifth test drive today, or was it his sixth? I don’t know; who cares anyway. Hank, the old, grody man who was purchasing me this time around, didn’t even take me for a test drive. He knew from the moment he arrived at the dealership that I was the only thing he could afford, and even if he did take me for a spin, it wouldn’t be that much fun anyway. It wouldn’t give me the exhilarating feeling Jake got on his test drives. People drive me for practicality, not for an exciting adventure.

   I groaned as Hank plopped down in the front seat, hardly able to sit without his huge beer belly pressing against the horn, shattering the ears of every car and human in the area. He shoved the keys into the ignition, letting out a small burp while doing so.

We sped down the road, heading toward the cheap, sketchy part of town. He slowed in front of a small, rundown condo as he picked up his mail. I knew this guy wouldn’t last long as soon as I saw him open a letter with the words “eviction notice” written in huge, red letters at the top. I wondered why he thought he had the money to buy a car when he couldn’t even pay his rent. I hoped when he got kicked out of his condo he would sell me to get a little money instead of trying to live in me like the homeless man he was as some people had done before. It already was too much with him sitting and burping on me. I didn’t know how long I would be able to handle his sleeping and spending every dying minute of his life in me.

   Suddenly I felt something wet drop onto my steering wheel, then another on my seat. As I looked closer, I realized he was crying. Great! He’s a crier too. He should have kept in mind that he’s not the only one who had to pay the consequences for his insolent weeping. Now, on top of all the grossness that was protruding from this guy’s body, I would also have to be prepared to be a soggy mess for the next few months.

   Finally, after several large tears, Hank pulled into his gravel driveway. His parking was rough, but I decided not to judge. It seemed like this guy had been through a lot, and I probably had already done enough judging for today. In the future I might need to cut the world some slack. I was who I was; and nothing was going to change that. I would have to deal with it just as much as mother nature was going to have to deal with all the pollution emitting from my exhaust pipe. After collecting himself, Hank cranked up the front windows and headed inside his dumpy home.

   As I sat and waited for sleep to encroach upon me, I thought about Jake. I thought about the fancy, rich man who had probably purchased him. I thought about the garage some rich man’s butler was probably pulling him into right now and the many other cars that Jake would converse with until they slept peacefully through the night in their hoity-toity garage. I thought about the rich man’s many hired workers who would wash him in the morning.

   I sighed. No matter how hard I tried, Jake’s hood would always be ten times brighter than my future. If only just for one day I could experience the elegance and glory poured upon Jake that he took for granted. A car wash for Jake was as normal and expected as a daily trip to the gas station.

   After about five minutes of complaining to myself, I was tired of feeling bad for myself. I did that too much anyway. There was no way I could change the future, let alone the past, so I stopped trying. As I sat, I thought about the many questions I asked myself several times a day.

   Where are my ears?

   How come I can see inside myself?

   How come I’m gray and other cars are different colors?

   How come my horn sounds different than other horns?

   What is so interesting under the hood?

   How come I can see my whole self, but not the mysterious objects under the hood?

   Where are my eyes, anyway?

   The list goes on and on until I feel as if I’ve burned all my gas from thinking too much. Where did my thoughts come from anyway? Or did I possibly have a brain like humans apparently have? At least I thought they had brains. I didn’t know much about brains, but I’d heard people talk about them before. I never saw one, but I thought it might be interesting to take a look at one some time . . . if these things truly do exist. Maybe that’s what was under my hood.

   I always thought that I would make a good scientist, if ever given the chance, that is. Cars never really get the chance to follow their dreams. I don’t know why they shouldn’t. Humans always seem to be so into “following your dreams” and “doing you,” whatever that means. If you ask me, that’s how most people end up on the street and are forced to buy cheap, junky things like me. They’re too interested in what they want to do instead of what they have to do to be successful and keep a roof over their heads. I’m not saying don’t have fun. If ole Hank wants to go out and get some drinks with some friends he probably doesn’t have, but might if he was more worried about his well-being than his dreams, then go for it! You deserve to treat yourself every once in a while, but that doesn’t mean you have the authority to have a treat-yourself-day every day. You still need to live up to your expectations. I’m sure we’ll all have plenty of time to party after we die.

   After a lot of thinking it started to rain. I usually enjoy a light shower, but not when my new owner forgets to close the back windows. I guess his tears were the least I had to worry about. We needed to take care of his memory first. If he did truly have a so-called brain, you’d think it wouldn’t be so hard to remember to close the windows on your new car. But what did I know?