Cars.

My car is something that one can only describe as a pariah. It has no place in society. In fact, I believe it should be banished to the pits of hell. It is a 1994 Saturn SL. I inherited it from my father after he got a new car. The first thing I noticed when I got it was that it was broken. Well, not necessarily broken, but it did have a clutch. I think that's close enough. This car has taken a lot of punishment, especially from me trying to learn how to drive the thing. It's terrible on the freeway. People aren't happy being behind me when I'm driving 50 MPH trying to get to 55, a feat that takes all to long. The doors also neglect to do one thing: keep out water. I remember one day sitting down in my car to find the seat completely wet, and subsequently my pants. That's certainly not the best feeling in the world. The car can't help but stick going into third, but it has no fault in the situation. That would be like blaming a senior citizen because he walks slowly. So, yea, my car is a junker. And I don't really like it all that much. But it serves me well. And I'm blessed to have it. Because despite the fact that it gives me trouble, I know that people who don't have cars are doing much worse than I am right now. And hey, who's to say that this car won't build character? It's the least it could do.