Welcome to Pixel Car Art

[Carly.]

While sitting at a memorial service thing for a guy at my church who passed away, I eventually crossed the border from thoughtfully reminiscing to being outright bored. Still on the subject of life and death, I thought about cars. I imagine this is what a car's journal would look like if they could write. It may look cheesy, but it kinda makes you think, I think:

Today, I'm getting onto a truck with a few of my brothers and sisters. I don't know where we're going, but there are a bunch of other cars driving next to us. I don't know why I'm not allowed to do that. Now we're getting driven off the truck and there are a bunch of other cars here already. We're parking next to them. Now it's dark. And cold. And lonely.
The sun is back up today, and there are a lot of people looking at me. Some are going inside. One man just shook another's hand and got my keys. Now he's taking me away from my friends. He parked me in a dirty room in his house with one other car. Now it's dark, cold, and lonely much longer each day than at the first place.
In the mornings, he takes me to a parking lot in the city, and then right back here. And nowhere else. It's been four years and nothing else has happened.
The other car is gone today. Another one took its place. I don't know where the first one has gone.
It's been ten years now since the man took me home, and he has left me in a parking lot. There are signs in my windows that say "FOR SALE." I don't know what they mean.
Today, the man showed up with a young girl. They did the same handshake that I saw years before, and now she's driving me home. I'm not allowed to sleep inside here. She leaves me on the road. She's covered me with stickers and scratches and dents. She doesn't love me as much as the man did.
It's been five years since she took me home. Today, she let five of her friends ride in me. They were breathing funny smoke and drinking smelly stuff and vomiting on my carpet. Another car signaled her to leave the road with flashing lights. Somebody is taking her and her friends away. Now a truck is taking me away.
I'm on a platform with a hole in it. Several men are taking parts off of me and putting new ones on. They're cleaning my carpet and fixing my paint.
It's been three weeks since the girl left me, and I'm on another truck. Now I'm in a line of other cars. We're being presented to a crowd one at a time and everyone is yelling numbers. The biggest one I heard when it was my turn was five hundred. Now another man is driving me to his house.
His house is funny. There are lights and balloons and dozens of other cars. He never drives any of us. It's just like the first place I went. There's a sticker in my windshield that says "$2,500."
I've been here for ten years. Now my sticker says "$1,000." Another man is taking me home.
This time, I get to live inside again. I am the only car here. The man puts ladders on top of me and drives me all day every day. I think he loves me the most.
It's been another ten years. I am thirty five years old. The man parked me in the front of his lawn now. No more ladders. No more driving. Nothing but a sign that says "$300."
A new man is taking me away on a truck now. He isn't letting me off.
I've been on this truck at his house for three weeks. Another man is bringing a bunch of paint cans to me. now both of them are painting me black. And they're leaving again.
It's been a day. The man is back with red paint this time. He is writing on me. "The Widowmaker" on my hood. "666" on my doors. A picture of a target on my trunk. I think I am a race car now.
He's taking me somewhere on his truck. There's a big circle of dirt in a field with ten other cars. All of them are decorated like me. But where is our track? And why do all the other cars look so old, broken, and sickly? How are we supposed to race?
We're all in the circle now. We're facing each other. A gun just went off. Now I'm flying forward. No! We're going to crash! AGH! I never imagined how badly that would hurt! NO! AGAIN! OW! Ow! Ow...
I can't drive anymore. I'm being pulled onto another truck. Now I'm at a huge yard full of dead cars. They're all just as broken as I am. Maybe we're all in line for the place where those men fixed me up before.
We're not. Some people came today and took my wheels. Others took my seats. One man had my entire engine removed. I'm as good as dead. Now a claw is coming over me. It's closing and... AUGH! It's crushing me! And lifting me in the air. And dropping me in a box. A large, metal box.
A metal panel is coming in on top of me. It's sealing off all the light. Finally, I am at peace. No, it's still moving. AAAAGGGGGHHHHHH! It's not stopping! It's crushing me! I'm dying! I'm going to die!
Finally...

[Cooper]

at the end? it was 35 when it died or so