American Dream

This machine, as if from The Matrix, is not discarded for life, but waits to be renovated

The car, or what was left of it anyway, was called Christine. After Stephen King's book and movie. Christine was a conscious evil car. It killed people. This car, a real car, was responsible for the death of three people. First the father, an electrician, got hit by a charge while working on a pole and fell on the roof of the car. His son buried him and repaired the car. He got into an accident and died. Then someone took the car, but as he was repairing it, he accidentally touched a naked wire and died.

Christine, the evil car, gets wrecked in the end of the movie. As it drowns in the pile of iron waste, we see how its lights eerily turn on. We understand that it is still alive.

He said people asked him if he hoped to sell the car with such a history. No, he did not. It will be rusting for a long time now. On the roof which was convex, damaged, a puddle collected. The green sign with a town's name reflected in the puddle.

He had been working for fourteen years on the road gluing "cat eyes" to the road—"these things in the middle of the road" he said assuming (rightly so) I wouldn't know the term—before they learned how to robotize the process. He was glad to work there, because it was a free travel all over the country.

His family was big, but many members weren't on speaking terms. "Why, politics?"—I asked. He doesn't care about politics. The state should be abolished, he said. We do not need state. "So, you're an anarchist," I said. "Somewhat," he said.

He showed with his hand where he would cut parts of the car frame that rusted through. Then the new pieces will be glued onto, scars, polished.

See also: Dilapidated Cadillac

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