I believe all cars go to heaven when they get totaled
I believe all cars go to heaven when they get totaled.
In my younger, more naive years, I refused to believe that any form of afterlife existed. Now I believe that there’s a heaven and hell - I just think they’re for Range Rovers and Ford Fiestas.
I hope to gain 999 more followers this year to be legally recognized as a religion by my municipality governance.
The Flying Burrito Brothers once said “this old earthquake is gonna leave me in the poor house.” An old earthquake actually put me in a 3 bedroom, 2.5 bathroom single family rental home that my homeowner’s insurance paid for.
A chasm that opened on the outskirts of town due to that very earthquake swallowed four cars whole, but two of those cars didn’t go to heaven. They went to hell for having abysmal mileage - both city and highway.
You might not know it, but poor fuel efficiency is a cardinal sin.
Having blinkers that blink in double-time is a cardinal sin.
Putting 91 in your gas tank instead of 87 is a cardinal sin.
You can use Goodyear or Firestone, but any other tire is a cardinal sin.
I choose Firestone. I was fired from the only job I ever loved: wrenching sedans at a Pep Boys location with an exclusive contract with the region’s Goodyear distribution center.
Even just looking at a blimp triggers painful memories.
On the morning of February 20th, 2004, the general manager of that Pep Boys asked me to stop by his office after I clocked in.
“I was reviewing security footage from last night. Can you explain what’s going on here?”
The poor guy didn’t remember that truck nuts are a cardinal sin. The owner of that truck doesn’t know how lucky he is that I saved his 1994 Ford F-150 Flareside SuperCab from eternal damnation by neutering its rear bumper, free of charge.
“Hand in your badge; we’re letting you go.”
Pep Boys #0997 let go of their only spiritual advisor.
No good deed goes unpunished.