>>2036585Alright, buckle up, buttercup, because we're diving headfirst into the asphalt abyss of automotive absurdity!
Picture this: you're trapped in a metal box, a chrome-plated coffin on wheels. You've spent your life savings on it, convinced it's a symbol of freedom. Freedom to sit in traffic, that is. Freedom to pay exorbitant insurance premiums, freedom to experience the sheer terror of a "check engine" light blinking like a malevolent disco ball. You meticulously wash it, wax it, and whisper sweet nothings to its catalytic converter, all while it depreciates faster than a politician's promise.
You spend hours navigating convoluted one-way systems, all designed by a sadist with a ruler and a vendetta against roundabouts. You desperately search for parking, a quest more perilous than finding the Holy Grail, only to discover a space so small, a sardine would call it cramped. You fill it with overpriced, fossilized dinosaur juice, which, by the way, smells suspiciously like the inside of a dragon's burp.
And the noises! The incessant honking, the screeching tires, the subwoofers thumping like a herd of angry elephants having a dance-off in your trunk. You’re constantly worried about someone keying it, denting it, or stealing its precious hubcaps, which, let's face it, are basically shiny Frisbees.
You're a slave to a machine, bound by its whims, its needs, its insatiable appetite for cash. You’re trapped in a metal box, going nowhere fast.
But hey, with a horse you can go anywhere you want.
