Requiem for The Little Saturn that Barely Could
Written by Harbinger
The air is crisp and the ladden snow that fell the night before is begining to melt and pool under the gaze of the bright and glowing mid-day sun. Whistling a generic and random tune I stroll to my car with studying material in hand. Inhaling the fresh winter scent I decide in my mind that today will be a wonderful day. I enter my cherished little Saturn and turn the ignition.
Cries of whirring agony and sputtered failure erupt across my neighborhood. “Oh God have mercy! It hurts! Please, no more! I can’t take it any longer!”, the pitiful Saturn begged.
“Don’t be so difficult. I need to go to the bank and desperately need a haircut as well as groceries.”, I affirmed. “We do this every time. I swear you nearly stall out every time I come to a complete stop–but only occasionally do you. No more of this “crying wolf”, ok?”
I engage the ingition once more. Writhing in perfuse torment the pitiful Saturn attempts to heed its master’s command. Dry rakes and peculiar whirring give way to subdued sounds of congestion. “Please….let me die in peace” the pitiful Saturn chokes out. The weary struggle brought on by a lifetime of toil and neglect strain its voice as I rest a reassuring hand on the dashboard. “I’ve lived nearly as long as you have and seen many roads Michael. Please, let me go”.
A sudden flood of rage and defiance washes over me and the once gentle touch clenches tightly into a fist. “No! You will not die on me now! Not as my finances have cleared up, not when I have work tomorrow morning, not when I only have oatmeal in the cupboard!” With a streak of determination and careless disregard I throttle the ignition and depress acceleration pedal.
An outburst of torturous pleas resonates across the parking lot for a moment before silence descends over the haggard little Saturn.
As my nerves cool a sudden pitted feeling of fear and worry begin to blossom within my stomach. “No, you can’t be…” I mutter to myself. With deft execution I alight from the vehicle and conduct an emergency inspection after lifting the hood. Noting that my patient has a history of critical heating and fluid problems I refer to said systems. The worst has come to pass and I am gripped to acknowledge the fate that I had susspected. The water pump is both frozen and cracked.
As this was only the latest of inumerable complications, I decided that this was time for The Little Saturn that Barely Could rest in peace.
“You came into my life at a time when I was too poor for any other vehicle to want me. Sure, we had our problems; like attempting to go somewhere but you deciding to over-heat after 10 minutes of 35mph driving, random pieces of your exterior interior falling off, 30% chances of stalling out when coming to a complete stop, incontient gear ratios, broken heat extractors, but that’s behind us. You did have a banging stereo though, so I shall remember as you a hooptie of the finest calibur. Besides, the new car I’m looking at buying is just great.”
Multas per gentes et multa per qequora vectus advenio has miseras, automobile, ad inferias, ut te postremo donarem munere mortis et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem. Quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum, heu miser indgne automobile adempte mihi nunc tamen intera haec, prisco quae more parentum tradita sunt tristi munere ad inferias, accipe fraterno multum manantia fletu, atque in peretuum, automobile, ave atque vale.
admin @ March 3, 2008