It was unreliable, white and prone to gases firing out of the rear end. Big and hulking, imposing itself on the others while it roamed the country, it stormed through the landscape with a loud noise. Four wheel drive, it says. I can go wherever I want!
No, the nation replies. You can’t.
But how can you do this to me, it screams. I am important. I have been designed to go anywhere I want. I have been moulded by life and time to do whatever the hell I please.
The nation said, it will not be this way.
It shouts into the void, crying and stomping, rumbling and chuntering to itself. I will not stand for this, I will change the landscape around me.
The nation says, we will no longer be changed.
It says, fine! I will stay limited to the roads, but the roads will accept that I am their ruler.
The roads declined, preferring to stay as they were.
Very well, it cries to itself, the only thing left that will listen. I will change anything left that there is to change. Then it realised, in its rush for power and significance it had lost sight of the things around it. It was alone and the nation and the roads had left it to its ways, moving on without it, embracing the new world that lay before it. It stopped, wheels rusting, full of punctures, trapped in the quagmire where it had chosen to stay.
‘Look, it’s barely worth the parts, but I’ll sell it to you. How does five hundred sound?’ My dad asked, as I looked on from the passenger seat of the brand new Mitsubishi. I couldn’t help but think that this titan of the roads deserved a better fate.
A short one tonight. Hope you all enjoyed.
The Idiot in Tin Foil