An old beater. That's typically the description you hear someone give to their first ride. My first set of wheels was worthy of more than that; Bullet Bill, sounds pretty catchy. That bad boy was a gem of a first set of wheels.
6 years, 153,000 miles, 10 states, 3 accidents, and one hell of a good time. It takes a pretty special car to be named after the best item you could ask for on Mario Kart to snag a first place title. Bullet Bill was more than just my first car, he was my first partner in crime. That bad boy was by my side for all my big life happenings- countless competitions, my college experience, my big move outside my comfort zone. His skill set was endless, taking care of all my life needs. He doubled as a shoulder (or steering wheel) to cry on, a comfortable cushion for a cat nap, hell he was like a second bedroom and dresser to me (as was evident by my apparent homelessness with how much of my wardrobe he carried.) It's always hard to say goodbye to a dear old friend, but I knew it was his time. He served me well though, and his replacement certainly has big tires to fill.
"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming, wow, what a ride!"
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