Tales From The Tomb: Crappy Cars I've Owned

So, I'm sitting here at my keyboard when I should be about my latest project. The replacement of a halfshaft on my '90 Buick (or Puick as I call it) I seem hopelessly drawn to old crappy cars. Maybe its the same urge my little sister has to bring home all the homeless animals in the world.
I also have a '94 Geo Prizm that at one time was a very clean outfit until my boys, on a trip home from soccer practice decided to see what would happen if they backed into the barrow pits at 60 MPH. He was actually trying to avoid a raccoon that was comparable to the size of the Prizm they were driving.
The thing is, while the body is falling apart, it just keeps on going like the Energizer Bunny. They took off both mirrors in that accident, as well as caving in the driver's side door, and efficiently removing the bumper faring. They ended up between two trees, either one they could have hit, which was fortunate, and there is no physical reason why they didn't roll it.
My son affectionately calls it "Cleaddus" He is currently delivering pizzas with it
Then there was the time I bought an old Mitsubishi Montero. I paid $400 for it. It was the one outfit I bought that never made it home from the dealership. About ten miles from home out on the freeway it just stopped. After much time, effort, and money, discovering that the timing belt imploded, jamming melted plastic and other debris into the machine works, it never ran again.
It looks like I'll have make this the first installment of a series.
I'd love to stay and chat but I really gotta go to the can!
later dudes

Getting to know you....

So, In the last few years I've lost my house, my drivers license, my job, my dignity, my sanity ( that's actually been gone for a long time.) I have about a 430 fico score, high blood pressure, clinical depression, IBS, and mother freakin' hemorrhoids.
I see my life as an obnoxious little man who during the early years would kick, bite and scratch at me, but wasn't much more than an annoyance. Then about spring of '93 he knocked me down. I got laid off a job that I'd been at for nine years. I went from a little over forty thousand a year to just under seventeen. Somewhere in that time frame the little bastard grew this mutantly large hand, and since then every time I've tried to pick myself up.......SMACK, WHAM......back down I go, and it hurts a little more every time it happens.
People, especially my folks always tell me that I should be grateful, that there are people out there who have it worse. I know this to be true but HOW IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?! That only means that things could still get worse and probably will! I might think I've hit bottom, but I've only landed on a ledge that soon will either give out from under me or I will roll off of in my sleep.
You know, you usually read stuff like this and then the dude says, "but I found a better way." and he goes on to pitch some money making scheme at you. I'm not going to do that to you today. It is what it is and it still sucks. End of story.