So the other day I was driving home from school in my 1992 Ford Explorer, normal procedure. I was driving down a hill near my neighborhood and was slowing down to make the right turn into it. I eased down on the brakes when something bad happened. I lost all pressure on the break pedal and it went straight to the floor. After that I realized that I had two options: keep going down the hill and let the lake at the bottom of it stop me, or crank the steering wheel as far right as I could. I chose the latter. I drifted around the turn, the whole time hoping that nobody was coming out of the neighborhood for me to hit. Luckily there wasn't, and the rest of the way home was uphill, so brakes weren't necessary. When I got home I told my parents and we took it to a nearby mechanic, who told us the next day that we could get it repaired, but the bill would total anywhere up to $8000, so we might as well buy a new car.

Basically, everything with a liquid running through it under the hood had a leak somewhere, the front left brake pad was gone, and the four wheel drive was shot. My dad and I took anything of value out of it (the radio, the brand new battery, etc.), and I took the front license plate off as a momento (I carried it around school last Friday). We're donating it somewhere as a tax deduction and hopefully we'll be getting a new car by the end of the month, so I'll be getting to drive the '95 Toyota Camry.

I loved my truck. No matter how many problems it had, how many strange noises it made, it got me from point A to point B in its own one-of-a-kind way.

R.I.P
"The Exploder"

*vanishes to mourn*