I. Hate. My. Car. So. Much.

Driving home from work night, I noticed white smoke coming from the engine. What's next, flames? Locusts shooting out of the tail pipe? Oh wait, that's not possible because two weeks ago, my rusty tail pipe FELL OFF, officially placing me into white trash territory.

Nothing good can come of this. I'm feeling more and more like the little car needs to be put out of its misery. Surely being a downtown dweller I could survive without a car (let's not forget national biodiesel day, folks)? I could master the bus system and pretend I'm living in Europe, reading my New Yorker and/or hip paperback novel on the way to the market/cafe/art gallery. I could cab around town like the gals from Sex and the City.

Overidealize much, Beth?