Why is it that one of the only ways that a young chap such as myself can begin to achieve some separation or freedom from my parents, is through a car. It is fucking strange, as well fucking pathetic.
For the past 10 or so years I have lived in a household of dictatorship rule. My fuck-stick stepfather is a total control freak and one major asshole. Over the years he has tried his best to keep his thumb up my butt, but thankfully my sphincter is made of stronger stuff. That is why my Minnesota parents hate me so much, because I refuse to follow their goofy rules. They did not parent, they punished; they did not reason, they acted without concern. I will laugh the jolliest laugh and out-jig a leprechaun on the day they die.
Unfortunately, over the past ten years I had grown used to being shit on and ordered around. I am perfectly aware of what a healthy family should be, but it is very difficult to just shake ten bad years away. My very own automobile now offers me complete freedom, I can go any where I want, if need be I can sleep in it, and it should take me wherever I want to go. I am having trouble adjusting to that fact. I did not realize that this would ever be a factor of a car.
