Rad Blog.

 

Got half an hour to burn so here’s another post. 3 in a day. Hat trick, bay-be.

 

I’m writing letter to my car, Tyrone. I saw this on the Daily Post thing but not in the prompts section. It is a good idea.

 

Let’s do this.

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Dear Tyrone,

 

You’re a pretty rad dude, but it wasn’t always that way, was it? I remember when we first bought you. I was pretty mad because of some stupid reason and I refused to have a ride with you.

 

We’ve come a long way, man.

 

Cars are pretty essential to us. I mean, unless you live in a city, cars are second nature. It is a necessity these days. Public transportation is for chumps.

 

Anyhow, I suppose I wanna thank you, but it really isn’t worth me thanking. We’re basically one. Thanking you is like thanking myself.

 

You and I have secrets that no one else will know. You are like a silent Simon Cowell. We’ve seen things that I don’t like talking about. We’ve been places. We’ve been lost. We’ve been stuck. We’ve almost been dead. A few times.

 

We coulda died, but we didn’t.

 

I try my best to keep you in good shape. We haven’t had a whole lot of body problems, but the ones we did have I escalated to the high mountains. What’s a popped tire amongst friends?

 

We’ve been to some really terrible places like Philadelphia, but we’ve been to some equally rad ones like Ocean City, Maryland. We rode on a boat together through the Atlantic. I regret I won’t be able to take you with me to Kansas. You understand, right? There’s no point in bringing you.

 

If you were a person, we’d have the exact same music taste. We like it loud, but we like to be respectful too.

 

You’re growing older now. Some things are sounding funny with the engine. We’ll get through it because when the music is loud enough, we can’t hear the rattling.

 

I must admit, I fairly pretty hard at keeping you clean, but you don’t say anything when I get in fits of rage at life. I’m sorry I punched your seats and steering wheel.

 

We’ve had some interesting passengers too. I feel like our mind is synced when we drive with them. That one dude with the bike was kind of a loser. Same with the smoking lady. At least she was kind enough to roll the window down so it wouldn’t smell the car up with smoke. We’ve had some good ones too like the Queen.

 

The truth is, I don’t know what I’d do without you. If you went, then I’d have to find a new car with quirks. They will never be the same as yours. I would probably despise it too. I know exactly how hard to press on the gas and brakes. I like the aspect of manual locks and windows. Everyone is so privileged with electric stuff and push to start. Screw that, we’re as basic as we get and we love it.

 

I’ve had a lot of friends. They’ve come and gone, but Tyrone has been with me forever. Lunch time, we hung out in the baking summer sun. In the cold winter, Tyrone heats up well in the sun so I can have a nice nap.

 

You’re my boy, Tyrone. Together with Raul Octo and Captain America, we own the roads. We truly don’t need anyone else. You’re a part of my life. If you could talk, I hope you’d say the same.

 

When the time comes today, we’ll both be taking the routine way home. We got the music ready. The sun’s not out anymore so no warmth. Luckily I’m not cold either.

 

Also, who gives all their trash to a friend to hold? Your interior is supreme.

 

Anyhow, I’ll see you soon and hopefully tomorrow and the next day. The other cars have nothing on you. Ever.

 

-Chas Rad

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