Ode to the Mongrel

I love it. I hate it. I built it.

At least I know who to blame. Here's the story on the Mongrel. It's a truck. It's a beast. It's possessed by Lucifer himself. The more time, energy, money, blood and tears I pour into it the more it abuses me. And I love it for that reason.

Yup, I'm an idiot. EEE-DEEEE-UTTTTTT. Idiot.

I built the Mongrel to tow the 57. Great idea huh? Well, it tows the Plymouth. Right up to the point where it breaks. And let me tell you, when this truck breaks, it does it right. Broken axles, wheels parting company with the vehicle, broken crankshafts, oil leaks, gasoline leaks, and incessant exhaust leaks; this truck has done it all. I built it from nothing, the way I want it. It was supposed to be what a brand new truck should be. And it is! It has a manual transmission. It has loud exhaust; the kind that scares yuppies in Audi's and sets off car alarms. It eats up miles and miles of interstate with reckless abandon. All this for $15K. What a bargain. I'm sorry, let me retype that... What? A bargain!?!?! That's what I meant.

Anyhow, it finally runs right. It's a blast to drive. It is utilitarian.

It's for sale.

Time to move on. I want to build another project. I need money. It's been on e-bag, and closes in mere moments. No bids, and there won't be I'm sure. Some guy in Tennessee wants to buy it and says he is coming to look at it this week. I don't believe him. I've been told that too many times.

Well, it's gotta go. I want stupid money for a fake Lil Red Express. But I'm still taking a loss. I guess it will keep taking up space in the shop for a while until someone wants to part ways with $10K.

Not likely.

Wanna buy a key chain with a Lil Red Express attached?