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I like to imagine those vehicles just got tired of the rat race. The terrible road surfaces, traffic around them with no regard for their safety, owners who went 8K, 10K, even 20K miles without changing the oil. They were never thanked for the job they did and only got feedback when they weren’t up to snuff. Maybe they were abused. So one day they just…left. Got as far away as they could before they ran out of gas. A few snapped – they maybe made it to a park or a ravine on a quarter of a tank. But the clever ones, the patient ones…they bided their time. They waited until Shitty McOwnerson had a job interview or a big date planned and had just filled them up. Then they took off. Headed for the hills. Skedaddled. After they saw a little piece of the country, they decided to try off-roading. They’d always dreamed of birdsong and wind in the trees. So they wandered the woods as long as they could, and one day, they found it unnecessary to start again. They found a place…where they could rest…peacefully…and return, in time, to the earth from which they came.