To Our Hand-Me-Down Cadillac: I am about tired of you. Hubby and I treat you good. We change your oil faithfully, rotate your tires, gave you a new battery and spark plugs, and made sure that you had all your needed fluids. We even bought you new brakes. How do you repay us? You sputter and cut off in the middle of BUSY intersections and also on the hottest days of the year.
You drink up gas like it's $1 beer night at the redneck bar. I hate you so much. We have taken you to a specialist who told us that it might be the transmission or it might be electrical problems. The nice man told us that it would probably run us about $2000 to fix you. Hubby and I talked it over and HMDC, we will not give you that much money. When we get our income tax refund from Uncle Sam next January, we are taking you to the Push, Pull, Drag sale at the car dealer up the street and we are trading you in for a Ford Focus. I'm sorry, but this is tough love. Perhaps you will find a nice high school kid to take care of you. It's better this way.
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