Wednesday, November 03, 2004

I’m a 7 years old Wira and this was my story

I’m a second hand car. I’m beautiful. Shoo. Laugh if you like, to my owner I’m damn pretty. On Jan 2001, my current owner bought me from second hand dealer. He loves me. He even declares to the whole world that between me and any new models, he will pick me anytime. To him, my only foe is old Mercedes Benz. To him, new cars can’t compete with me. He loves to spend his hard earned money for me. When I’m sick he’ll take a day off and brought me to see doctor. In my case, the doctor is the mechanics in our neighborhood. My owner really took good care of me. I’m honored to serve him. Really.

We experienced a lot of things together. I start to love him. And to him, the high maintenance in me has made him appreciate me more.

Last Friday, he brought me to one place that’s very alien to me. The people there then did a test-drive to me. Learned that my owner want to ditch me for a new model. What a way to celebrate this year Eid ul-Fitr. Bravo to my owner who has gut to ditch me at this time of the year. You should wait until Eid’s over, you fool.

He said that I’m starting to act weird and proven to be very high in maintenance. What utter crap is that?

Okay, I didn’t stop there. He should learn his lesson. So, this week alone I overheat my heart engine, in too many occasion. Yesterday, I puncture one of the tires. Serve him right. Nobody knows yet what I intend to do to myself today. I need to do something big, for I only have until this Friday to do so. He’ll get my replacement on that day. Don’t ever mess with me bro. I’m a bitch.