The speedometer

Do you ever feel like an inanimate object or find yourself talking to a thing? This morning when I got into my car to go to the MTC the speedometer read 164003.2 miles and the silly thing started whining. "Dang! I have to go so slow--one silly mile at a time. I'll never be able to rack up lots of miles rapidly. In my first 4 years I made it to 95 thousand. Now that was exciting! Then my car got a new engine and this dorky OLD couple bought my car. The man wasn't too bad he took me lots of places and I chalked up miles in exciting trips. But then he died and the old lady goes barely ten miles a day on average. Now I'm fourteen years old and still barely moving. It's not that she couldn't let me roll up miles quickly--she keeps my cars' engine serviced and those boys of hers keep good tires on my car. They showed her how to use the four wheel drive so weather shouldn't slow her down. In the nine years she's been driving me she's put less than 8000 miles a year on me! Oh, Woe is me!! I may never reach 200,000 miles and get to start on 300,000. Oh, woe, woe, is me!! Why couldn't I have been in a snazzy Ferrari or Lexus or something with a young, on the go, driver? I feel so sluggish and unimportant! Oh, woe, woe, woe!"

Anybody want to go on a nice trip?