My son is having a love affair with Mrs. Jones. It’s been going on for 8.5 years, since he was the tender age of 19. He’s spent an untold amount of money on her. Not just thousands of dollars… tens of thousands of dollars and she’s still a gaudy, low-down, hot mess.
I don’t like Mrs. Jones, I was against her from the very beginning, but I was the one who drove said son to meet her for the first time, so I only have myself to blame.
Mrs. Jones is a 1997 Infiniti Q45 and she’s a POS. A project car that will never be complete. N.E.V.E.R.
She rides about 2/3rds of a Gatorade lid on end off the ground which means she scraps even on the smoothest of roads. Her oil pan and exhaust have been replaced a ridiculous number of times.
She has a choice of at least nine full sets, and four pairs of wheels. The gal loves her shoes. Her fenders are rolled so her 15-inch tires don’t get shredded. The -5 degree camber on his back and front wheels make her look knock-kneed.
She needs a new paint job and interior, her wiring harness needs a major overhaul, and her A/C is acting up, but instead, her Christmas gift this year was a new five-trumpet horn that belts out the theme song from “The Bridge over the River Kwai” at maximum volume.
Priorities…
Thin spiral notebook 
😆 she sounds like a classy gal! She casts my hobby costs in a better light.
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Mrs. Jones is the definition of Money Pit, and I buy yarn like it’s my job. I can’t come close to the amount of money that has been sunk into this car.
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