| | [Transformers is the bomb!]
It's so hard updating regularly, especially when your lifestyle is irregular like mine. But I'm trying still.
You may or may not know that my family has a fantastic Honda Civic of age 25 years. It's been with me, and the family since...forever. My mom says it's bought the year I was born, and that only means I was riding in it before I even knew my own name. Incidentally, it's older than me because it's a second-hand car, imported from Japan after being used there for 5 years.
The fabulous Honda Civic I call Whitey.
It may not the best-looking, fastest, or most high-tech car, but it's the best car I've known in my life. I've known it for the 19 years of my life, and it's still running well. Sure, it's visited the mechanic uncountable times, been through numerous repairs, a make-over, and still broke down countless times, but it is the car that has brought us to school, to work, and many places. It may not be subtle at all; the engine, not the quietest; its appearance on the road usually turns heads, what with it's ghastly white facade, dirty bumpers, not to mention the loudly whirring engine, but I'm not ashamed of it. I'm proud that I'm behind the wheels of this flamboyant but durable vehicle. 
Whitey with mom, who's the constant driver of Whitey for many years, until my brother, and I, got our licences. I remember when I was small, when the family was going somewhere using the car, I'd quickly jump into the car and shut all the doors, and deeply breathe in the very odd smell of the interior. I'm not sure if it was healthy; not sure if it was the smell of rubber, plastic, dust, the cushion or a combination of those; not even sure if it was pleasant--but one thing for sure is: it was highly addictive. It was like smelling a marker pen, and only available when you first got into the car before the engine was started.  Whitey with me. The car brings back so much childhood memories: like the faulty radio that once made all of us jump when it decided to start producing sound again as we turned the volume high; like the hole in the seat burnt using the cigarette lighter because we thought it should be used just like every other equipment in the car; and the dried and cracked ceiling that we peeled because it looked fun, after which we learnt the hard way that there are just things in the car that we shouldn't touch. 
Whitey and sister; yes, I know I take excellent photographs.
But now the car has become too old in the eyes of my parents. They decide that it should have its rest--permanently. The government is offering to buy back old cars, which are to be scrapped! My parents took the deal because they want the money to get a new car. I blame my older brother for being inconsiderate, pushing the poor old car to its limits when he drives.
The scrapping shall happen tomorrow. I talked, my sister argued, my younger brother gave up, but my parents stuck to their decision. Despite the win-win scenario that I clearly explained, my dad is unwilling to invest in the car once more and make it brand new again. He'd rather spend the money, together with what he'll get from the old car, to get a new ride. Rest in peace, Whitey. You will be missed.
P.S.: How I wish the Overhaulin' team was here to overhaul the car. Sigh... The new car better resemble Whitey one way or another. |
| | Posted 7/1/2009 11:59 PM - 69 Views - 8 eProps - 5 comments
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