A sophisticated car blog that never veers off track
Welcome to The Rusted Muffler.
Writing is like shooting yourself in the foot, launching yourself down a deep well, and then trying to climb your way out.
The writings you will find on this blog are examples of where I failed to make it out of the well, and so now my corpse lies somewhere in between the damp cobblestones and poorly chosen words of each written disaster.
Sometimes, I never even get as far as the well, because I trip on a rock, bash my skull open, hallucinate for a while, and then drop dead.
So far, the number of times I have made it out of the well is zero.
My goal is that one day this page will have a section named ‘published.’
This blog is about cars and serious business.
Energy bristled from my pinky toes all the way up through my cerebellum.
It’s worth considering if the illusion of choice is more important than the freedom itself.
Do the symbols “P0300” keep re-occurring in your nightmares?
Have I ever actually bought a car from Craigslist or Facebook Marketplace?
Maybe sometimes I go hand out cigarettes to the homeless
Some call that ‘dangerous,’ but I call it ‘personality’.
If you’ve killed two birds with like twenty-something stones over the course of about two years, then you are probably kind of an idiot, or maybe even deranged.
After another unexpected round of my favorite game: ‘jump out and push your dead car out of the busy intersection’, my mind went blank.
But then again, the universe wouldn’t be what it is if it wasn’t mysterious.
When it rains, my sunroof leaks drops of water onto my face.
A stretched timing chain makes an engine that only dies at idle seem like a luxury.
The number one question I get asked is, ‘when are you going to get rid of that piece of shit?’