Banana In The Tailpipe

man, i can't believe it's finally gone.

My hands are too cold to type. No, that's not metaphor. It feels like the end of an era... like a lost a friend (and in true fashion, on my own terms, quietly and stoically, but with a too familiar acerbic burn). Cliches fall from the sky when speaking of a car in los angeles, but I feel the relationship i had was special, more than most, and certainly unique. Spinouts at ninety five mph, an unforgettable race through downtown in morning rush-hour complete with a kid banging a kitchen pot on his head in the backseat, and the assertion that i knew what I was doing and that I would never hurt you in the front. Cold, sleepless nights, coldplay's Scientist (more than you think... ), hiding under some bridges and skating across others... burning many (bridges, corners, red lights, sometimes in the same thought), but always as a hulking engine of acrimony. From Hollywood Lanes to the Hollywood Bowl to speeding down a crowded sidewalk in front of the pigs on Hollywood Blvd, we had some good times. And some bad, but those always fade with time.

Never endearingly named, it was above anthropomorphism, it was deified The Passion of the Altima. And was thusly forsaken. But with love, not animosity. It's last ride will always remain special, it's victory lap - The Killers, with Anna. So much fun. The end of an era.

Goodnight. You will be missed.