The old car slowly chugged down the street like the caboose of a steam engine train. The car goes up the hill it goes Ka boom , kachunk. The car is old and weathered with rust covering the entire body like cancer consuming its victim. Wheels and tires wobble like a drunk bum on his way home from the bar. Hub caps are gone along with all the mirrors and extras on the car. Black smoke flows out the rotten tail pips like the smoke out of and old cobb pipe. The local junk yard had seen better cars then this. The interior was a dusty brown with holes covering almost every square inch of the seat covers. The ceiling was hanging down and the rust had eaten through the roof like a Billy goat through a tin can. This old car is my old car and it is as faithful as a good old dog by always starting and getting me from were I need to go.