2000 Toyota Camry

How I killed my 2000 Camry.

Soon after the slow impending death of my '97 Geo Prizm, I was car-less. I took the bus for a few months. It was brutal. Riding the bus, itself, is not so bad really. There is just a major blow to the crotch of your pride when you no longer have a car. You feel dependent on friends to get around, or it takes you 5x as long to get anywhere on public transportation.

I saved up for a few months, and I had enough to buy my sweet grandmother's old car - a 2000 dark gray Camry. She got a newer 2013 white one. Tis the car of the elderly. The Camry is nothing exciting, objectively, but relative to my previous vehicle, I had just bought a sports car. This was fast - meaning it could go 70mph on the highway without barely flexing a calf muscle. It had the steel wheel option, and, oh my, cruise control. I had the luxuries of a prince.

Quickly, this car would test my patience. I will admit, IT never did anything wrong. Somehow it just had the worst of luck with other idiotic human beings. I was renting a room from my friend's family at the time, out in the wooded Orinda, California. It's a wealthier area for sure, so there's no second thought to parking it on the street. The streets were narrow, so you had to be careful, but I could always find a spot. Even so, I hardly used it. I actually worked at a small fancy pizza company, and I would take the Bay Area Rapid Transit into San Francisco.

One day, as I arrived home, I noticed my car was not in the plush piece of shade I had left it in. I called my friend - perhaps he had borrowed it (for he was a poor car-less soul at the time). No answer. I called his parents. Mother - no answer. My friend's dad answered, with an obviously anxious tone. It's as if I could hear him sweating through my cell phone.

Apparently, my car had been towed. A neighbor approached my friend's dad earlier in the day, asking if he knew who owned my car. They had been taking some friendly precautions to make sure downtown visitors were not parking in the neighborhood. Mr. dad has ridden in my car before, but, no, he forgot it was mine. They, together, triumphantly called the towing company and saw my gray stallion off to the impound-ball. Unfortunately, by the time I figured this out it was too late to pick it up the same day. This meant a hefty $600 towing fee, because of an overnight charge, for me. Yippee!

I quickly made plans to move out. I couldn't afford to have shit like this happening - literally. I was broke. I finished up the month, and I packed up my room into the car. I didn't have much, but it stuffed the Toyota to the brim. Some friends and I proceeded to celebrate by going to a movie - Elysium. It was a nice theater, let me tell you. They were one of the first to get those leather seats you can reserve. It was a reward worthy of such a liberating moment.

Yet, it was destiny. I would come out of the theater to find my car missing. I looked on every floor of the parking garage, wondering if I had some sort of delirium. Nope. No car. The chubby security guard called the cops for me. All my home-valuables, and my car were gone. That's really it to the story. It's a shame.

May the roads under its wheels bless the driver with a swift crash and bruising. May no one enjoy it if I can't, considering the circumstances.

Trevor

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