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Avoidable Contact #62: The ballad of the first owner

The first owner is a ghostly but still powerful presence in the nooks and crannies of the old car we have just bought. Microscopic remains of his incomparable skin and sweat dwell deep in the foam of the seats. A pair of shiny spots on the wheel indicates where he liked to rest his princely hands during long trips, utterly and completely free of all our mincing worries about wear and tear and NLA parts and suchlike. The frame of the drivers seat has a slight twist from his tendency to lounge in traffic. He was restless, a wealthy and predatory creature trapped in a cage for which you would eventually pay dearly, but not as dearly as he did. He was Adam, Genghis Khan, Columbus, Armstrong, the first man. We will never be completely free of him.


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Wow. Written from beyond the... grave? The rose bush? The coffee table? Well, sent from wherever your ashes were deposited. All of these details that you so accurately describe, how is it that no one that you encountered would have marched you in front of St. Peter and lobbied for you to get a second chance? Because you, sir, and only you would be able to provide the provenance about these things we call cars. Only you could explain how that bump on the decklid formed, resembling a metal zit (an unfortunate attempt at trying to put your granddaughter's fully assembled Christmas-present tricycle in a space not quite big enough to fit)  And with that second chance, buy a better set of jackstands. By the way, just what is your current self-administered medication of choice these days? Nice side effects...

Intermediate Driver