I Have Found an Alien

If all goes well, then at this time tomorrow, I'll be in traffic, attempting to reach my new vehicle. If all goes poorly, I'll still probably be in traffic, but my old car will be in flames and I'll be running down North Lamar, away from a zombie army. I'd like to say that one is more likely than the other, but I'm really in no position to do so. Anything can happen at this point.

To be honest, I'll be a little sad to see the truck go. Not because I particularly enjoyed driving it or riding it or even owning, but because ... I don't know. It had a good stereo? The clutch was pretty easy to shift? I really have no idea why I'd miss this thing. I guess it's the longevity factor. Imagine you have a roommate for eight years, one who's always wearing your undies, missing the toilet, and passing out in your bed (while wearing your undies). Now, when the guy leaves, your life will improve, but you may also miss him a little bit. For all of his foibles, maybe he was really good at making cheese dip or handy with a dustbuster. So, while your undies belong to you once again, you're getting less cheese dip and things go undustbusted. One's way more important than the other, but it doesn't mean you don't miss those small things.

I don't mean to get carried away here. A few days from now, you could probably come up to me and recite the truck's license plate, and I'd think you're a man from the future who speaks in alphanumeric code. And then I'd get in my shiny, new steed and run you over so I could sell your corpse to the National Enquirer.