Flashing yellow lights reflect off her windows as a flatbed truck unloads a 1980 Lincoln Continental Mark VI in her driveway. Lulu Luck had found the car on the internet and purchased it sight unseen. The clunker hasn’t run in almost twenty years, but that’s okay. Lulu’s training to be a mechanic, and she wants something to tinker with. The thought of restoring a wreck to roadworthy condition makes her giddy enough to prance in place.
Her excitement fades as she starts examining the car. It’s a lot rougher than the ad had made it out to be. The fact that the engine doesn’t run isn’t surprising – she’d known that when she purchased the car. But the rest is disappointing. Rust is bubbling under what’s left of the vinyl roof, and there’s rust in the rear wheelwells. Most of the trim is missing, the hood ornament is long gone, one of the corner lights is broken, and there’s a pair of random holes in the hood for no discernible reason. The lettering that’s supposed to spell out Continental on the car’s trunk spells ‘N T N A’ now.
It’s rough, but it’s hers. The hood doesn’t sit level, which she thinks is odd. She opens it, finding that one of the hinges is gone, and that the hood is also bent. It’s then that she realizes the ‘random’ holes in the hood had been for hoodpins to keep the hood shut, like on a racecar. The catalytic converter is gone; stolen for its platinum content. She looks up the cost of replacing it, and it’s more than what she paid for the car.
The passenger-side rear door is jutting out, refusing to fully close, and Lulu tries to push it closed to no avail. She applies more pressure. Something has to give… and it’s the door. One of her hooves breaks through the rotted door as easily as if she’d been ripping paper. The door is still slightly ajar.
Lulu stares at the hole her hoof has inadvertently punched through the rusty rear door. The more she digs into it, the more she realizes this car has the structural integrity of Swiss cheese. There’s a reason this car was so cheap, and that reason is because it’s junk.
It would cost more to get this wreck roadworthy than it would be to just buy two nice examples of the same car.
Restoration is out. Hot rodding is out. There’s just no saving this poor car. The best use for it is parts.
[CHOICE]The car’s too far gone to fix. What should she do with it?
Parts of the car that aren’t made of metal are in good shape. The crushed velour seats are comfortable, and she has no problems saving them to put in another car someday. The lighting fixtures are still intact, and she pulls them off the car. Assorted bits and bobs get stacked in a corner as the car is stripped of anything useful.
The car isn’t going to need any of those parts, not where it’s going: The Fairgrounds Classic demolition derby!
Lulu Luck loves technology. She loves cars. It pains her to destroy something, but sometimes you reach a point where there’s nothing else to do with it. She’s paid good money for this car, and scrapping it will only give her a fraction of the money back. Even if she sells the good parts, it’s still going to be a net loss. She may as well have a little fun with it before it goes to the junkyard.
She peels off what's left of the vinyl roof, exposing even more rust on the metal underneath. Then she grabs a sledgehammer and smashes the windows out.
It takes her a few weeks to get the car ready for its big debut, as she learns the rules and modifies the car accordingly. She installs a rollcage and all the safety gear that’s required, and also anything that’s recommended.
The last step is painting the car. She’s not an artist, but she’s happy with the end result: a bright pink car with smiley faces and hippie flowers all over it. Win or lose, Lulu hopes car #16 will at least move under its own power long enough for her to have some fun.
The engine doesn’t run, but unlike the rest of the car, it’s not beyond saving. She doesn’t need an engine lift to pull the motor from the car. Her magic is strong enough to do the job.
Parts that aren’t metal are in good shape. The crushed velour seats are comfortable, and she has no problems saving them to put in another car someday. The lighting fixtures are still intact, and she pulls them off the car. Assorted bits and bobs get stacked in a corner as the car is stripped of anything useful.
The car isn’t going to need any of those parts, not where it’s going.
She sighs as a flatbed truck shows up to take the car to the scrapheap. She’s wasted a lot of money on that clunker, but she’s learned a valuable lesson in the process: you can’t save all of them.
A month later she’s at the county fair. Her old Lincoln is there, parked alongside four other decrepit vehicles.
“Here comes Grave Digger!”
The crowd cheers as the monster truck enters the dirt track. Lulu adds her own voice to the cacophony as Grave Digger wheelies across the track, slamming into the side of the old Lincoln with its rear wheels. The truck jumps nearly vertically into the air, but what goes up must eventually come back down…
The Lincoln doesn’t stand a chance; seconds later the five-ton monster truck slams down on top of it, flattening it. It’s a bittersweet moment for Lulu – her jalopy is now nothing more than a memory.
