March 20, 2010

Oh, To Be Legal... *UPDATED*

This is my car...

And this is the money I will spend today on said shiny little blue guy...

The concept of car inspections is, to my feeble brain, akin to exploding subatomic particles. Or filling out tax forms. Or VCR manuals. And other equally difficult, mind-ripping experiments in human foibles. Who decided my happy, innocent vehicle needs gruff, unwashed hands wandering about his curves, seeking imperfections for which to charge me? Why does someone else have to put a stamp on my transport to declare it fit for duty?

Lil' Neon works just fine, thanks. When he's spitting up fumes and vomiting essential parts, I'll bring him in for service. Yes, I'm aware his check engine light is on. Has been for nearly a year and it hasn't stopped him from zooming down the freeway and shredding through yellow lights with the greatest of ease. Why must I pay an extra $92 for the privilege of knowing that the light is on for no particular reason?

It's a conspiracy. A ploy to take my hard-earned cash for which I slave at a desk for untold hours. See, here's me working terribly hard...

What more proof do you require that I shouldn't have to inspect my car? In protest of this intrusion, I waited two months beyond my expiration date to get my new set of stickers. Because when the state has a sticky hand in my pot, I like to make them work for it!

So I have to take Lil Neon back in a few days when they have the correct replacement parts for my fuel system leak. Plus two tires were deemed insufficient to handle road duties. Anything else, guys?


  1. That's the very image of hard work. I must try to look like that myself. And you're such a rebel!

  2. That's why I always travel by elephant.


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