Wednesday, January 23, 2008

My Ghettofabulous Car

My car turns sixteen years old this year. Old enough to drive itself. And also to drive me insane.

I was driving home from work on a Saturday night (typical, unfortunately), deftly flicking the fingers on my left hand to signal my right turn onto Sweet Home Road when I heard a click followed by my car lights (headlights, tail lights and dashboard lights) going off unceromoniously. Left with no choice, I journeyed my way home in darkness with the occasional car honking/flashing/signaling at me, as if I am some soh mui driver oblivious to my situation on a pitch black night.

I turned to my ever reliable, amazingly innovative mechanic, Sham, who understands that my car is a jalopy, and there is no way I will spend too much to fix a $1800 car. So, after a couple hours of tinkling at the cost of less than $50, let me present to you:



That knob to turn on my lights on the left signal-thingamajig is now a thing of the past. I can now do that by using the on-off light switch sticking out from my dashboard. Ghettofabulous.