My car, that is. They're coming. Whoever They is. And wherever Away is. I don't much care, by this point.

Seeing as how I've had a snazzy new minivan - with an even snazzier new headlight - for, what, five months now, it finally seemed like a good time to get around to doing something with my old Saturn. Which is 10 years old with 157,362 miles on it. It served me well.

Probably still would be, except it needs more work, plus seating for about 2-3 more people, in order for me to be willing to keep driving it. It hadn't sold on craigslist after two halfhearted listings, and it sat in my driveway and I let life happen. Until, finally, it reached critical mass on my to-do list, and I called AAA to come jump-start it. Apparently cars don't like to sit untouched for five months. Who knew?

And then I called AAA again, because it couldn't idle for 20 minutes to let the battery charge up. It gasped and died before the tow truck was all the way down the block (but, I'm sure to the disappointment of my neighbors, was far enough away that I didn't chase it). So, when, after a second jump-start and slightly more successful idling time, it died again, I took that as a sign from the Car Gods saying that it was time for a sacrifice.

Fine, whatever. I decided to donate it to Children's Wish Foundation because they sent my family on this fantastic Disney vacation back in 1998, and an old rusty car that needs brakes and a muffler and a battery and probably an alternator will more than make up for that... right?

Riiiiiight.

So all I have to do is leave the key and the title in the glove compartment and they'll come get it on Thursday. And in the meantime, if you're in the market for a really, really big paperweight, there's one at the curb, just rarin' to go.