It’s mine

Oh well, after riding in a post and very comfy car, travelling by public means and in an old rickety Nissan, I had all my senses up and super-active. A dusty dashboard, wires dangling from where they shouldn’t, heat from the engine under the seat, and dusty air all around accompanied the pitiful woe cries from the rest of the Nissan’s body (and passengers).
But when we stopped to fuel, the driver proudly announced that the station attendant give his “baiby-as-usual”, and this he said with a certain strong sense of pride. I almost burst out through the windscreen in laughter, but in a split second all that changed. I didn’t own a car of my own, I needed his (oops!). He owned his, however its condition, and it was getting some income for him. I could at best only pride in a friend’s (car.)
Yes, ownership of something dos raise one’s confidence and sense of command. And without further persuasion, I now respect anyone who’s got something to their name, and I’m slower on judging…especially when I am not an authority in that certain field.

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