Dorchester woman settles doubts whether you can get a Corolla up to 100 m.p.h., State Police say

The car had no plates on it the second time.

I can only assume she was quickly trying to get to her nearest RMV office to clear up that pesky suspended license that had slipped her mind earlier in the week.

Srry.

Now hopefully she can make license plates in prison.

Unless it was towed somewhere, it shouldn't have left the tow lot without plates. (If that's not illegal, it should be.)

I don’t think Drunk Piece of Crap is a superhero.

that you're making a mistake. :-)

(I got a bicycle up to 45 mph before it started giving an 8 Hz judder and yeah, not doing that again for a *variety* of reasons.)

Learned to drive on them - they would go very fast, but can/should got in the game at around 90mph.

only one that Toyota opted to use recycled steel in the body, a disastrous idea. After a few years of street parking, it started rusting through in fist-sized holes all over, like leprosy. (Or it looked like a cheetah, if you're a sunnier thinker.)

My eldest brother, originally trained as a sculptor, got sick of starving and turned to working with carbon fiber reinforced polymer resins, has since made a steady living as a jobber on America's Cup racers, luxury yachts and parts for SpaceX. He took a grinder to the rust spots/holes and spackled them over with the stuff. I don't know if that was a structurally safe idea (probably couldn't be worse), but two hours of backyard work added a good 15 years of working life to that rickety beast, and cosmetically it was merely equally awful.

As I once observed on Car Talk (in reference to a different shit car that had a wonky heater control), driving a crap-heap was a useful filter: any girl who'd go out with you again after you'd picked her up in that *thing* on the first date was maybe genuinely interested for the right reasons. (Or had low standards. Hard to tell early on, but I always found that promising and most often borne out. You don't have to be Sheena, but a little punk-rock sensibility never hurts. I think I put a "Save the planet, kill yourself" sticker on that car. Certain I put a 'ZBC sticker on it.)

I eventually passed it down, as it had been passed to me. It went from my big sister (who'd bought it new), to me, to my sister-in-law (the artist's wife), to my little sister, and finally to her son. Cue Darth Vader's Theme: "You have come of age, nephew: now comes your moment at last to inherit the Great Family Legacy." It gasped its last sometime in the oughts, didn't quite cross the 200K-mile Rubicon. A rotten shell, but otherwise tough to kill, with ridiculously low maintenance, fuel and insurance costs: my kind of car.

RIP, The Pink Bomb, so-called for its hideous factory metallic-nacre paint job even before its psoriatic decline. Big Sis doubtless thought that was a stylin' choice at the time.

That's more like it!

Now....That's even more like it!