Irregularity

This post does not cover the type of irregularity you would treat with a fiber supplement and a glass of prune juice.
This covers the fact that sometimes months go by between posts, and sometimes I trail off on ambitious projects, for example: reviewing used cars, ending human stupidity (or at least pointing lots of fingers concerning its spread).

You would think I would explain this by saying I'm extremely busy.
But am I? Sitting on the family room floor with my laptop, halfheartedly listening to another rerun of The Office yammer on on TBS, I hardly think so.

But as a young professional, I'm headed to bed soon for the morning commute. At 9:30PM, most nights, there is nothing in me that wants to elucidate the various advantages and disadvantages of late model imports.

There is a simple pleasure in the brief stretches of my drive where traffic clears, and the little Impreza gets to stretch its 2.2 litre legs.
Granted, the '97 Subaru Impreza L has no pep to speak of. It trundles on with a measured step, casually leaking ever so little oil when I let it sit.
The left side is scarred with battle wounds from before I knew it, broad brushstrokes of deep rust red over the fading green paint.
Its a workhorse, a faithful servant. Well, once i pried the dead starter from the engine block and replaced it with a rebuilt one from autozone it renewed its vow of stability.

And lo, though its turbocharged sister sits patiently in the garage for a sunny weekend, this car soldiers on through rain, hail, snow, fog and darkness (Ah yes, in the recent hail storm, when everyone was trying to shelter their Mercedes under a tree along Georgetown Pike, it strode on unaffected), though its upholstery is cracking and faded, and it smells vaguely of burning oil, I appreciate this car.

Its a beater car. And everyone should have one.