Never buy a Hyundai. They make hideous cars that will try to kill you.

My car loves this movie.

My car is paid off.

And there ends the list of nice things I have to say about it.

Other things I have to say? I suspect it wants me dead. I don't know if it thinks it's a beneficiary on my life insurance or something, but if it does, it has highly overestimated our relationship.

Evidence my car has it in for me:

Exhibit A: The engine died, 2000 miles outside of its supposedly fab warranty. If the engine itself wasn't a health hazard, having to replace it so early certainly was.

Exhibit B: The windshield wipers have a habit of tangling themselves up like something out of a Dali painting, or ceasing to work altogether. Generally in the rain. Not that they ever did a stellar job anyway.

Exhibits C - F: Blatant attempts on my life this weekend. Allow me to explain. I came to visit Linda and Giz this weekend to get Oscar ready. As I was driving to their house, an evil person pulled out in front of me, causing me to swerve to avoid broadsiding his evil vehicle. My deathtrap of a car hit some snow and my steering wheel decided, "I've had enough of this whole 'controlling the tires' gig" and just stopped doing so. I could turn the wheel 360 degrees and my tires were like, "Whatever. We're on strike."

I called AAA (best purchase ever) which I only just got last month (why, hello awesome timing) and they sent a tow truck. When the guy arrived he looked under my car and exclaimed, "Holy s**t! Your [insert name of car part I do not know] is completely rusted away!" He said he'd never seen anything like it. I swear my car chuckled to its diabolical self. It's only regret was that it didn't get me on the turnpike when I was going... well, faster than I'd like to admit while my mother has access to this blog.

Maybe it's time to buy a Vespa.