Roger and the Dodger

I’ve mentioned before the Dodger’s days were numbered. Well the inevitable came when The Dodger left me in a cloud of smoke that poured out of its rattling exhaust pipe as Roger the car salesman (and aspiring photographer) stole it away. It took me all morning to clean out my little Neon. When I opened up my trunk I found all the things I’ve been looking for for years. The junk in my trunk could tell the story of my life.

As the blue smoke cleared from Roger and the Dodger I was left standing next to my new traveling companion, whose trunk would soon tell all my lives stories, now empty and unwritten.

Currently, I feel the Passat is a little mature for my tastes. I almost can’t take myself seriously in it. It has all sorts of crazy doodads I should be super stoked about, like that my engine is as fast as a rocket missile and that these computers on my dash calculate and crunch all sorts of equations things- like how long till I’m on the side of the dusty highway thumbing my way to a gas station. But truthfully, I’m just grateful for the simple things. Simple things such as when somebody outside of my passenger side window wants to talk to me I don’t have to put my car in park, lean across the seat and roll the window down while my arm cramps up.

The time is now yours to share a few thoughts slash memories about The Dodger (or claim any of your belongings that may haven been in its trunk)