That's MY fucking goat!
So I'm in the middle of 3 days off at the moment, and haven't been out to my car since just after MIdnight Thursday when I got home from karaoke. Needless to say since then, we've gotten a light dusting of snow (ok like a foot). I had to go out to my car just now to get the rest of the Yule stuff in so I can get it wrapped and stuck under the tree for tomorrow morning. The property manager had done a wonderful job of plowing out the lot, except of course my spot, since my car had been in it the whole time.
Now for those of you who don't know, I drive this:
Except for the fact that Rufus (that's his name) is blue. Well, and missing part of his front grill, but that's another story. Now, these cars don't have a whole lot of ground clearance on them, as you may or may not be able to tell. When I got out to my car, I found that there was snow packed against the backside higher than the bottom of the hatch window. Grumble, grumble, clear the snow a bit, grab out the stuff I need. Them as I look at the pile I realize that if I don't get out of this space tonight, the 2 upcoming days of sub-zero temperatures might have me frozen here well into the Obama presidency. Grumble, grumble. Go in the house, drop off the stuff, grab the garbage (because I don't want that frozen inside the house either) dump it, put the can down and go back to the car. I start him up and let him sit a minute while I clear the (foot of) snow off the windows and sides. I own no shovel, haven't owned one for over 2 years, so this is either going to be very very good, or very very bad.
I get in the Rufus, put him in reverse, and blast through the pile on the first shot.
THAT'S my fucking goat! He's so beat up at this point, his doors freeze shut (and don't open and shut right when they're NOT frozen) and he's only got 3 wheels worth of brakes, but he's a fucking goat. He takes all this show and ice we get thrown every winter and laughs at it. "Pile that shit higher back there" he tells me, "you're fucking embarassing me." Mel's car:
(And no that's not hers, her's is maroon, but it's the same car) OOH, look how shiny and pretty it is. OOH, can't you just hear that high-performance engine. Yeah. Handles like a pig on skates in the snow. We don't know why, by all logic it should handle FAR better than Rufus, but it doesn't. I'm pretty sure her car looked across the parking lot and peed itsself out of respect when Rufus blew through that snowbank. "That's right bitch, I'm the Alpha car. Now shut up and gimme yer oil change money before I kick your pretty ass."
He's ugly, he's beat-up, and I don't know how many much longer I can deal with prying the doors open every morning with a screwdriver, but he's my goat, and I love him.