The end user

 

The End User
(by R.P.Edwards)

Pity the poor auto
That makes it’s way…to me
It’s future, now, is certain
It’s ending…clear to see
For I am not a fixer
Collector?  Never I
Just  friendly time together
Until, alas, you die

It can be downright spiritual.  An “I need your help, Lord” as I delve into the engine compartment of the old ‘93 Buick.  “I need this car to last a little longer.”  And then, with the near flat-line condition averted, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you.” 

It’s been a pattern with me.  We get a ride that is heading into it’s golden/hospice years.  Fine to begin with, but destined for the morgue.  As a rule, I don’t even bother washing the beast.  And waxing? Totally out of the question.  O, my wife may attend to such things, but it’s not in me to do it.  In fact, I’m pleased if I just keep up with tire pressure and fluids.  It’s a defect, I suppose.  Yes, when it comes to cars, I use them; abuse them, and eventually…lose them.  And the thought of passing it on before the graveyard?  That’s a foreign notion, indeed.  You see, I’m definitely not a fixer.  At least in the “automobile” department.

Well, it seems from the news that I have much in common with the federal government.  Immigration unrest, healthcare budget shenanigans, foreign policy flimsiness; Uncle Sam, like myself, appears to be an “End User.” Good intentions, plus gross neglect, lead to the junkyard.  And the temporary, “have to” fixes, only delay the inevitable.  What this “vehicle” really needs…is a new owner.  I hope these owners (leasers, actually) are ready.

That’s what I think.  How about you?  Click comments below…and say.