No one could ever say she wasn’t faithful. She was beautiful and powerful. We were a team. Speeding down highways, running from the cops, keeping my friends safe... And now, atop of this hill, she finally gave out. It was here that Betty’s engine coughed to an oily, steaming halt.
It is important to note, and mostly for sheer amusement, that Betty was my first beloved car. And while we never ran from the cops together, she did die in a rather dramatic fashion. We had also decided that if she were ever to be personified, she'd be that scummy diner's waitress---the one with reallllyyyy thick makeup on and a raspy voice from all that smoking over the years. The waitress that called everyone "hon" or "sweetie" and half the time didn't reat you like she meant it that way. She wears pink tennis shoes and drinks her coffee black. Probably owns a rifle. Or is terrified of them. Either could kick your ass or is the first to die. That was Betty.
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