Up until April 1, I had a 1970 VW Bug, name of Honig.
( She got great gas mileage, but you couldn't haul wood in her.
Now I have a 1971 Toyota pickup, named Miss (or Miz) Blue.
If I can get this thing working, you'll see Spuds, our 18-year-old cat (yes, he's still here!) on the hood. He can barely walk now, but somehow floats upwards in amazing leaps to the top of book cases and the hoods of vehicles. When we let him out, which he's very pissed off we don't.
I can now haul wood in the back of the truck, and bags of salmon skeletons. Last salmon derby, I went home with more salmon than anybody else, because a lot of guys were doing the stupid Testicle Trophy salmon cleaning — barely scraping the meat off the two sides of the salmon to form a weensy fillet, just because they didn't know how — and throwing most of the meat into the water. Guys. I swear. Why WOULD you go display your ignorance and inability like that? Not to say throw most of what you paid and worked so much to catch back into the water?
I'm not really complaining; if you're dumb or Testicle enough not to take that salmon backbone home to smoke or just grill, I'm gonna be there with my bloody bag.
If I'm NOT there, then everybody knows what you're doing, anyway.