A Story About My Old Car

I’m sitting in the lobby of the Mercedes-Benz dealership right now thinking about how bent over I’m about to get. They told me that, on top of my regular service, I need to get a transmission service, which is $650. Hahahahaha I’ll just sell the car, thanks. Kill me. Kill me good, man.

I drive for Uber and Lyft as my main source of income, which I genuinely enjoy. Like… a lot. It works perfectly for me. I have the flexibility to focus on my writing career and work when I want. I meet a ton of cool people and make great connections. I like driving around and listening to music. I just don’t really make any money, which kind of sucks when the point is to make money.

People always ask me why I drive a Mercedes for Uber. Well, I didn’t buy the car to specifically drive for Uber. The deal on the car was too good to pass up after my last car got totaled, and then I started driving part time for a little extra cash. I realized how much I enjoy it after I graduated and it became my job. Oh god listen to this shit.

So before this car I had a 2006 Chevy Impala. Great car. Great rims. It came with these 20 inch thug rims, so I looked way cooler than I was. They weren’t too thug, either. They weren’t spinners or anything. They were just solid 20’s to get the respect of the homies. I nick-named my car “Tyrone” because I was getting out of my car one time and this homie started yelling “Tyrone! Tyrone!” Then he saw my bitch ass get out and was like whoops sorry man I thought you were my homie Tyrone. So yeah… the car became Tyrone.

Anyways, I had the car sitting outside of our house one night because that’s where I parked it. All of a sudden, at three in the morning, my dad comes in my room and says “somebody hit your car.” And I was still legally sleeping, so I just said “yeah whatever.” Then he said, “no, somebody hit your car.” I still thought I was dreaming so I just went “yeah, yeah fuck off.” Then my dad goes “Jason, somebody hit your car, go look!” And then I was like oh wait I don’t think this is a dream. So I went downstairs and walked outside, and sure enough, somebody did hit my car!

This dumb high school kid was cleaning up pieces of plastic on the ground when I got out there. Little twat twister wouldn’t even look at me. His parents were there, because my dad and I were both too deep of sleepers to hear the actual crash. They rang the doorbell to wake my dad up, even though the rest of the neighborhood heard the crash. Neither the doorbell or the crash woke me up. My dad could hardly even wake me up. Anyways, his parents were out there and I was looking at them like “you better beat this kid.” I’m not for violence or beating your children, but sometimes… sometimes you should definitely beat your children.

I don’t know what happened to the kid. I don’t know why he hit my car. There weren’t any skid marks so he might have fallen asleep. Whatever, the point is both cars were totaled and now I’m at the Mercedes dealership.

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