Oh, sweet Leroy.

Inspiration struck me today, as I walked through an apartment complex with the Sister Missionaries.

We crossed the street, passing dangerously close to a dangerously green-apple-colored car. And I knew in that moment, that my world would never be the same.

I wanted a car.

As we walked, I formulated in my mind a plan to approach some poor sap who was clinging to an unloved, junky old beater that was barely hanging onto life. My plan was to wave some $80 cash in this poor sap’s face and say something along the general lines of, “I can take that off your hands for you.” The poor sap would be thrilled, no doubt.

As I drove home triumphantly in my glorious junker, I would chuckle to myself, and skillfully fix all the broken parts with only my own intuition and a box full of paper clips.

I would then hold a spray paint party, and invite all my friends. Soon my car would be unmistakable.

And then I would name my car Leroy Brown (or Smackwater Jack, depending which song sounded better on the less-than-average stereo I’m sure such a car would house.) We would be good friends, this car and I, and he would never break down on me, because he would love me so much.

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I feel as if I already know him. I look forward to our joyful reunion.

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