Morning Constitutional 10/10/11

It’s never too early to start thinking about car burial.

Eventually your car is going to get old. It’s going to break down or refuse to let you shift out of reverse. You may simply just wish to stop driving, give up your job and forfeit your place in society altogether. You’ll need to do something with the 2,000lbs+ box of steel and plastic you’ve called friend all these years. You must return it to the earth.

Select a sizable chunk of ground in your or a neighbor’s yard and start digging. Immediately. Use your hands if needed. It may be necessary to park your car in the street or closed garage out of sight of your digging so as to avoid any awkward conversation.

If an abundance of swing sets, BBQ pits, laundry poles, uneven patio stones, old water heaters, above ground pools, unpainted picnic tables, tipped-over bird baths, ugly dog houses, rotting porch swings, tangled garden hoses and still-on Christmas lights leaves little space for a full plot, consider dividing the remains between the front and back yards. Ask a giant robot to tear your car in half if you lack the proper cutting torches.

Be sure to remove any maps or back up sets of reading glasses from the glove compartment before starting the burial process. Drain the car of any dangerous fluids and buckle all of the safety belts. You may wish to remove the battery if your vehicle has signed the appropriate donor forms. Finally, roll all windows down and, if your faith allows, breathe in a little air from each tire, including the spare.

Bury your car tail lights down at sunset. Read aloud from the proof of insurance and walk away. This chapter of your life is closed. You are now ready for a future of roller skating and second-class citizenship.

About Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.

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