Not to spoof on a famous Shakespearean quote, but in the city it is hard to make a decision about automobiles – cars or not cars? That is the question. Living in the real world, with a real job, and real money (I try to pass off that toy money, it never works) a car is ideal and possible.
Living in the real world cars can be useful and convenient. But this is Temple world. Not that it’s fake, but I really do not consider being in college the real world. College is like the step before; like pre-algebra before algebra, crawling before you walk, taking your clothes off before you have … um, to get ready for school.
Cars, though, are more problematic than understanding a professor with a bad lisp. The problems my car have caused me makes me not want to have a car when I enter the real world. So, instead of complaining about elevators and chocolate boxes, vending machines and express lanes, like I usually do, I am going to let my guard down, and let you enter my life, my real world of car problems.
For some reason, I have kept my maroon 1986 Chevy wagon at school for almost three years now. Why? I ask myself this question every second of every day. It only brings bad things into my life.
First of all, I am the laughing stock of car owners. I have a mom car. Actually, a grandmom car. What college student owns a Chevy mini-wagon with chipped maroon paint? No one that I know of, besides me. And this car is a beauty. It has all the accessories of a fully loaded wagon, besides a horn, and well … besides a radio, and um … the brakes don’t work too well. The driver side door does not open, and the hatchback does not stay up (unless I use my snow scraper with an extension to hold it up), but other than those flaws, the car is perfect. Oh, did I mention the cloth on the roof is falling, and the back seat passenger side window is not there. So, just by looking at the car, you can see a portion of what I put up with on a daily basis.
Overall, my car is a piece of work. I mean junk. Not only do I have to deal with its problems, my own problems, but also parking, paying tickets and running to the ATM to pay a tow truck to drop my car.
Then there are always those people who think you are a taxi service. At one point last year, I was going to paint my car yellow and put a light on top. “Can you take me to work?” “Can you take me to the store?” “Can you take me to pick up my grandma at the train station … in New York?”
Anyway, here is the tip. Do not get a car. Do not drive a car at school. Real taxis are the ticket. Walk, take the subway, or even the bus. Just don’t follow in my footsteps. Until Temple world is no longer, do not get a car.
The real world is only a few years away, and it is worth the wait. Like making … um, pancakes … for the first time, it is worth the wait. Take car, I mean care, and do not laugh or ask me for a ride when you see my piece of sh- … shame roll up next to you.
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