My trans-dimensional transport device, commonly referred to as an automobile in this space-time dimensional manifestation, is not doing so well.  Micro-blue, as I call him, has been falling apart in little ways over the last year.  Parking near the haunted house must have been the last straw, I think.

Passenger side door permanently locked.  Driver side window getting harder to roll up and down.  And now the gaskets for the pistons seem to be going bad.  Micro-blue starts to blast smoke out his exhaust in huge thick clouds after the temperature of the engine reaches nominal operation.

I don’t have trouble with tailgate behavior anymore.  The other day a mindless primitive in his SUV length-extender screamed at me to “fix my effin’ car” as he drove by.

Oh, but Micro is so dear to my heart.  It’s amazing the amount of moving he did for the gang over here at the honeycomb hideout.  We evacuated the haunted house in record time thanks to his magical ability to hold three times his volume in dimensional storage proecedures.  He’s been a trooper of a car when we needed him.

K picked up a new reading in the loch walkabout patrol coordinates.  Hey, a 1996 Gamera Station Wagon in good condition for sale!  We do some investigation and after numerous escapades in the bargaining arena, the new transport is aquired from its kindly former owner.

Just like that, Micro is headed for the Craigslist circuit or the junkyard protein bank.  Its a little strange to think that the drive back from the subway station after the U2 concert might be the last late night bonding I’ll have with Micro-blue.  Even stranger that a gigantic silver turtle monster of a car has arrived, opening up new adventure areas as if this were a dramatically appropriate episode in the story.

1990 Toyota Tercel hatchbacks are truly saints in the pantheon of loyal transport mechanisms.  Thank you Micro-blue, for all you’ve done.  You are another name for fidelity and friendship!