A NURSERY RHYME ABOUT MY CAR:
Lovingly written by Chad Fletcher

"Hoopty Doopty"

Hoopty Doopty was NOT a great car.
She didn't go fast; She wouldn't go far.
All the grease monkeys and the mechanical men
Couldn't make Hoopty Doopty worth a crap again.

Ahem. That will bring a tear to your eye, yes?

Anyone who spends any appreciable amount of time with me knows that I loathe cars. No...perhaps loathe is too weak of a term.

I DESPISE THEM WITH THE FIERY HATRED OF A MILLION BURNING SUNS.

I've never liked them. They've always been a necessary evil in life. Nothing, not even the most high-maintenance girlfiend I ever had, ever sucked up as much money as my cars. Fuel, tires, oil changes, spare parts, new parts, Parts unknown.....$$$$$$$$ gone. Wasted.

I get zero enjoyment out of cars. Some of my friends are car maniacs- guys who have intense, passionate relationships with their cars (far more passionate than the relationships they have with their WIVES in fact!) They paw them, clean them incessantly, talk about them, keep pictures of them in their wallet ON TOP OF THEIR WIVES and CHILDREN, for crying out loud!

But me? I hate them. It doesn't matter to me if I'm riding a battle wagon or a station wagon. The only thing I care about is not spending a lot of money on them.

My students make fun of my ride all the time. Oh how they live for the day when they can go buy their first truck- they're all stoked about getting a loan and making payments....well, let me tell you something. PAYMENTS SUCK! That $400+ a months you're doling out right now is fine, but in three years you'll get sick of it. I haven't had a car payment of my own in three years, and by golly, it feels nice. My wife Natalie and I made $800 a month payments on her car since last May, and we paid it off two days before Christmas.

Ahhh.... freedom.

Not having a car payment allows me to spend money on things that I really like, like Chiefs season tickets, my incredible home theater, games and gadgets, books, etc.

I don't really hold a grudge to people who buy big fancy cars, because that is what they love. I just don't like being made fun of because I DO NOT like to buy big fancy cars. That is quite the double standard.

But back to the original point of this post: My car. It died again this morning on the way to school at the four way stop on Maple and High School, right catty-corner from the High School. Oh, the embarassment as I pushed it by myself through the intersection. Luckily no one was there to watch as I strained and nearly gave myself a stroke moving the darn thing. It had stopped right in that little groove that made it nearly impossible to push. But after a lot of swearing, sweating, and shoving, I finally got the thing over to the side of the street.

Square in a no parking zone.

I had no choice but to leave it. To make matters much, much worse, two Columbus officers come strolling into my classroom during our 30 minute Homeroom period that starts each day. I hadn't felt that nervous since the first time I got pulled over on my Joplin when I was 16 for having a headlight out, a tail light out, and failing to stop at a stop sign. Ooops.

I reassured the officers that the car would be move post-haste, which it subsequently was.

I hate cars. I hate my car now. It is a valiant car with 256,000 miles on it, and honestly, it has earned the right to be put out to pasture, or better yet, put out to stud, which is kinda gross if you think about it. She's slow, she's leakier than Karl Rove, but you know what?

She's paid for, and she's mine.