There's a huge hole in my car!

                                                         

Do I need to explain my self? Or is that self explanatory?

Lets get with the introductions now shall we? This is Rock n' Roll:

 

Ok but there IS a story behind this.  And no It doesn't involve any mafias, WMDs or anything very explosive in general actually, no offence Italians.

Oh and did I mention it is a fairly big hole? It is, really, I can actually STAND ON IT 

That's right. I can actually physically recreate the Flinstones. Although the way things are going I'm not going to be doing the same with the Jetsons any time soon.

So the story goes, me and a few friends decided to go out. Where? To Freaking Boca Raton. But that's not important. Back to the hole. One of my friends, Gabriel (To be referred as The giant with Really heavy feet)  probably stepped on my rusted crappy floor too hard. Like... Way too hard. I guess no one noticed when it first broke. The scar suddenly starts making scary weird noises on the highway, which leads us to believe its the suspension. After we all did a bunch of jumping on top of the car, we couldn't figured out, so me, in my infinite wisdom, decided to look at the bottom of my beautiful deathtrap of a car. What i saw was not pleasant. At all. Like... not even close. Nope, not nice. Horrifying. Rusted metal so decayed it ripped like bad textile material. Ever cut paper that got wet then dried? Think something like that. I could literally rip the metal finish in my car with a hand, and let me tell you, the rust dust wasn't fun (Tethanus shots anyone? WOO!)

We decided to ignore the damn thing for the time being considering we were lost (terrifyingly) in Boca Raton, a place where time apparently moves slower, or the people do, because they were doing 35 on a 55. Maybe it has to do with old Jewish New Yorkers Metabolism or maybe they actually invented a machine that slows time (I wouldn't be surprised either, how do you explain them living to be 800 years old?). So after 5 hours of being lost we finally reached our destination, where we stayed a whopping like... 18 minutes. Yes, 4 hours for that. Fun. We drive back to Weston blah blah not important drop off everyone. 

I hand the keys over to my good friend Luis, who I will trust my life (However never my car, again) with. Needless to say, if you know me, you know this involved extensive damaged to both public and private property as well as my car (as well as countless terrified spectators watching a car drive around a round-about with two of the wheels on top of the side of the road, which was like 8 inches over the ground, on reverse. Did i mention there was a garden on top of that? WAS. Now there's a garden in my car (Hey at least its pretty).

I do give props to VW for making a car that could survive me and my friends though. I mean I actually drove to school today and the car works (well as well as you'd expect a totalled car to actually work, if not better). I can't complain about it, really, I love the car, and, I for one, truly believe this car is actually indestructible and might be a transformer (although from the looks of it its either a really pissed decepticon or a dead one). No Seriously, we rammed the damn thing on the grass. Twice. On reverse. And then on forward. 8 inches. Horrible vertical inches. Seriously some people won't do that to their Hummer H2, we did it with a 110k mile FWD 94 VW Cabrio who already has so many things not working for it you'd think its not actually a real car.

To all the survivors of Rock n' Roll, congratulations, you get a spot of honor on my blog, although I'm not sure that is a good thing or not. (I Posted pictures of all of us but I didn't like how it fit the page so only names, SORRY)

Oona, Jeppe, Gabriel, and Luis.

Also Honorary members: everyone who's ever been retarded enough to ride my car. Congratulations, you win a unnarcissist award for lack of self-protection instincts excellency.