street cred

Whenever I have to stop at a red light or idle for a bit the car begins to reek of burning oil. This is not something I like but that doesn't mean it's anything new. Sure this particular olfactory sensation is new (with this car) but in general crappy cars are something I'm used to.

We drive cruddy cars. Two of them, one of which is probably older than my baby sister. Who's in college. The other ain't much younger. They get us from home to work and back (usually) and I love that about them. But I am not about to romanticize it. That leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Anyone who could afford it would buy a nicer car, that's what I think. Some people hate cars in general, which I think is pretty pretentious. I think hating anything just on principle is pretentious. And if anything leaves a bad taste in my mouth it's pretension. It's akin to self-righteousness. yuck.

Anyway, I digress. I drive an old car. And I won't romanticize and wax poetic about how much I've grown attached to it. My car doesn't have personality or character, it's got problems. Greasy, smelly unromantic problems. But then again so does my apartment, another thing I am not particularly attached to, another thing I would upgrade if I could afford it. Sure, living on the same block as an UN-Bank and across the street from an SA where they stand behind bulletproof glass and slide your purchase through a drawer gives me white girl street cred but I refuse to romanticize. That's how much street cred I have.