It was inevitable, I guess. Steve Austin died this weekend. No, not Lee Majors, but my car Steve.
He has been on life-support for a long time. My mechanic said time of death was about 9:50 this morning.
“This car is a POS,” he said, a Marlboro stuck between his finger, looking at the remnants of what I think used to be a working engine. “I think you should just say goodbye.”
We said our farewells. The viewing is at 4 p.m. and then Steve heads to the scrapyard in the sky (or in a field. Not sure how Nashville works these things out.)
May he rest in peace.