Post by ArchangelZero on Oct 21, 2011 12:02:38 GMT -5
Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm afraid the time has come. The verdict is in, and final judgment has been passed.
It's time for the Taurus to die.
Though it has held up admirably (cough) under the weight of multiple maladies, I fear that it's latestcondition conditions will overcome event its most feisty of spirits.
It's obituary will read something like this – 1995 Ford Taurus. Drivetrain: 3.8L V-6 engine, four speed automatic transmission, FWD. Appointments: Tan exterior, forest green interior. Cassette deck, AM/FM Radio, SRS. Approximately 185,000 miles. Cause of death: Engine freeze plug (gone missing), intake manifold (cracked), assorted hoses (swollen, leaking, and broken), driver's door (busted), power windows (failing), tie rod end (held together with hope), exhaust system (leaking), cabin lights (fused), oil pan (rusted through), engine block (unable to maintain oil pressure). These symptoms and more have finally put forth a repair bill of more than $3,000, causing the mechanics themselves to throw up their hands in despair.
“I don't wish to insult your car,” a man named Chris said, “I'm the one who's supposed to be trying to sell you on this repair bill.” A long sigh escaped his lips as he glanced forlornly at the Taurus, raised and teetering upon a metal platform.
“But,” he continues, “if I were you, I would spend my money on something else. There's really not much we can do.”
Yes, friends, I'm afraid it's true. But fear not! Though our tears will flow almost as freely as the antifreeze dripping from her sacred engine compartment, the giant stains the Taurus has left on so many driveways cannot begin to equal the massive puddle it has left in our hearts.
It is fitting that, after coming into our lives as a surprise (As a sudden gift on the eve of a visit to Sqiky's old apartment in Madison), it should make its exit in an equally sudden fashion. Just think of all of the good times, both those with and without shock absorbers. “You guys haven't been lighting off fireworks, have you?” Those words will forever echo in the trunk-space of my soul. She was the queen of reverse donuts in the winter, and the lord of blazing hot commutes in the summer, when classic rock would blast loudly through her 3 ½ cabin speakers.
And so I say to you, my fellow DZXer's, raise a toast to the Taurus this weekend! Let us secure its place in the driveway of our memory, where hail, leaves, and pine needles shall never tarnish its shining tan exterior.
Huzzah! HUZZAH!
(Funerary note: The Taurus' last drive will be on Monday, when I bravely pilot it to Badger Iron and Salvage on Highway 54. There, she will be recycled so that her parts may touch the lives of others. A buffet lunch will follow the proceedings.)
It's time for the Taurus to die.
Though it has held up admirably (cough) under the weight of multiple maladies, I fear that it's latest
It's obituary will read something like this – 1995 Ford Taurus. Drivetrain: 3.8L V-6 engine, four speed automatic transmission, FWD. Appointments: Tan exterior, forest green interior. Cassette deck, AM/FM Radio, SRS. Approximately 185,000 miles. Cause of death: Engine freeze plug (gone missing), intake manifold (cracked), assorted hoses (swollen, leaking, and broken), driver's door (busted), power windows (failing), tie rod end (held together with hope), exhaust system (leaking), cabin lights (fused), oil pan (rusted through), engine block (unable to maintain oil pressure). These symptoms and more have finally put forth a repair bill of more than $3,000, causing the mechanics themselves to throw up their hands in despair.
“I don't wish to insult your car,” a man named Chris said, “I'm the one who's supposed to be trying to sell you on this repair bill.” A long sigh escaped his lips as he glanced forlornly at the Taurus, raised and teetering upon a metal platform.
“But,” he continues, “if I were you, I would spend my money on something else. There's really not much we can do.”
Yes, friends, I'm afraid it's true. But fear not! Though our tears will flow almost as freely as the antifreeze dripping from her sacred engine compartment, the giant stains the Taurus has left on so many driveways cannot begin to equal the massive puddle it has left in our hearts.
It is fitting that, after coming into our lives as a surprise (As a sudden gift on the eve of a visit to Sqiky's old apartment in Madison), it should make its exit in an equally sudden fashion. Just think of all of the good times, both those with and without shock absorbers. “You guys haven't been lighting off fireworks, have you?” Those words will forever echo in the trunk-space of my soul. She was the queen of reverse donuts in the winter, and the lord of blazing hot commutes in the summer, when classic rock would blast loudly through her 3 ½ cabin speakers.
And so I say to you, my fellow DZXer's, raise a toast to the Taurus this weekend! Let us secure its place in the driveway of our memory, where hail, leaves, and pine needles shall never tarnish its shining tan exterior.
Huzzah! HUZZAH!
(Funerary note: The Taurus' last drive will be on Monday, when I bravely pilot it to Badger Iron and Salvage on Highway 54. There, she will be recycled so that her parts may touch the lives of others. A buffet lunch will follow the proceedings.)
