Mean Geane the Green Machine

To talk about cars in my life, there can only be one important discussion: Mean Geane

Oh the green monster was my pride and joy. I originally got her by trading an old engagement ring to my father for her; he'd had her for years and I was recently bereft of wheels.

She was green, as the name implies, but she was also the Titanic of the road, and she sank much the same.

This car was huge and built of solid steel - I never worried about accidents. This badboy could go toe-to-toe with a Mack truck and I'd have still won. I could, and did, shove at least ten people in the car, and that ain't counting the truck which was big enough to fill with water and make my own mobile pool. The bottom three inches were always full of water already, it just leaked too much to ever get any higher.

One of the back windows didn't roll down, the other back window, and driver-side window, wouldn't roll up. Only the front passenger window, was as Goldylocks would describe it . . . Just right. Not wishing to always sit in a wet seat, I cut out some cardboard, shaped to fit the window, about 10 strips, glued them together and kept the whole contraption in the back seat when driving, upon arring at my destination I would place it in the window, hold it inplace with the visor, and exit the passenger side door.
The windshield wipers didn't work, so I had a length of shoe string attached to each wiper, one going in the driver's side smoking window and one through the passengers', if it rained both the passenger and I had to alternately pull our strings . . . this allowed the blades to go back and forth.
The door was never locked, with windows stuck down, but that never bothered me much, since the only thing worth stealing was the 8-track radio that didn't work; for some reason I never figured anyone would want to steal that.
The roof grew green moss; it kinda remeinded me of Moss-Man from the He-Man era, yea the top looked like him. All grown over - but never try to tell what direction north was. It also grew a stalk of grass this one time. You know, the stalks that grow really high and have that wheat looking stuff at the end. I thought about growing my own field on top and brewing beer, but that never seemed to pan out.
There were bullet-holes in the trunk. At least, I called them bullet holes . . . big rust spots about the shape and diameter of a .45 slug. It gave me street cred.
The front lights were those damn lifting doors that pulled up when the lights were turned on so the rest of the time the lights could be protected from outside forces. Only, the driver's side was always stuck down and only lifted when I I gave it a swift kick, never try that while wearing sandals or flip-flops.
Oh how I loved Mean Geane! It sucked the day she died. Rolling along at 74 mph without a care in the world before the radiator clogged and a head-gasket was blown. Several days later some friends and I went to haul her home where she was sold to a junk-yard for the massive, impressive amout of $50.

Oh yeah, and I forgot about the gas mileage. You remember she was built out of solid steel, right? She got 10 mpg on the interstate and 6 mpg in town . . . oh yea, she was fuel-economy friendly alright.