Fucking hell. My car broke down, yet again. This, after I just spent the best part of $3,000 over the last 6 months trying to keep it on the goddamn road. I was driving home after work and had just pulled onto the freeway (I feel weird calling them freeways, we didn’t have any freeways in Tasmania) and the temperature gauge went mental, climbing from normal temperature to close to overheating in the space of five minutes. I’d learnt my lesson from last time my car had overheated (when I stupidly nursed it all the way to the mechanic and ended up cracking the head-gasket) and pulled over to the side of the road and called roadside assist immediately.

An hour later, and I’m sitting in my mates’ car following the tow-truck (which was some weird little tow-truck that only lifts the front end of the car up instead of putting it up on the tray), my useless piece of shit car being dragged listlessly around the uninspiring streets of the Box Hill residential area in the same manner that I imagine a pimp might drag the lifeless body of one of his working girls into the bushes after one-too-many a heavy-handed pimp-slap. What a delightful little whistle-stop tour it was too! (Not).

Of course, I missed footy training tonight and felt that my, ‘Sorry I can’t make it, my car broke down’ text message would be considered tantamount to the old ‘dog ate my homework’ line, so I sent the coach a photo of my car on the tow truck so that he knew that I was being legit.

So, I now find myself in the unfortunate position of potentially having to buy a new car (and when I say new car, I mean 10 year old car, by the way).  Joy. Nothing makes my heart race like investing in rapidly depreciating assets. The worst part is, I know that with my current car, I’ve gotten to the point that I’m throwing good money after bad. Still though, if I can get away with maybe just a couple more hundred dollars spent on keeping my old shitbox on the road, I’m probably going to do it. I’m like a gambling addict, “Just one more go around, I know I can get back to where I need to be…”

Why am I willing to spend more money on a car that clearly hates me? Because I’d rather spend $10,000 flying to Munich to drink beer with Germans with moustaches than on some 10 year-old family sedan with a  good ANCAP rating, that’s fucking why!

Maybe I’ll just ride my motorbike to work from now on. That’d be great in the middle of winter in the pouring rain!

Fucking first-world problems.

/end communication

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