You should never keep old cars laying around your back yard. It makes no difference how much of a nerd or boffin you are for general ‘automotive’ matters. So you subscribe to Car and Driver, keep a wrench next to your salad fork, pipette antifreeze in between sips of blue Icee and bench-press Ford Festivas without the aid of a creatine monohydrate supplement. Your old cars are still an eyesore.
Also, consider the fire pit. You never know when an errant spark from that thing might ignite the gasoline residue in your Rolls. As you may know from watching television, such sparks invariably lead to an exploding car. It could go up just like that.
Fortunately, there is a solution, but it only works if you have one of the small, portable fire pit units.
If your fire pit comes from Tuscany or begins with the letter ‘C,’ you may as well get the car towed right now. However, if you have one of the nice compact models with a lid and a handle, it’s time to take a tip from the Towers of Hammurabi.
The trick is to start by picking the fire pit up by its handle and carrying it triumphantly out of your yard. Is it heavy? Put some moxie into it!
At least now you’ve alleviated the exploding-car hazard. You’re home free, in a way. True, you may still face fines when your neighbors report you for ‘quiet hours’ ordinance violations, leaving a fire pit on a public sidewalk and walking sideways in a green windbreaker. But what difference do these bits and pieces really make? At least you’ll be spared the ignominy of getting out of bed tomorrow to find you’re the proud owner of a PT Oozer, a Mini Glooper and a Volkswagen Ugh.
The second step is to drive the cars away. Get them out of there. Now simply carry the fire pit back to your yard!
That’s it, you’re done. Relax. Light a fire in your fire pit. If you get nostalgic for the old days before your cars were on the street, when your mini-fiefdom was imbued with a general automotive aura, just remember that all life is sacrifice. Which would you rather do, find yourself something new to pipette, or wake up one morning to a loud boom, followed by three angry realtors and a driveway full of Fahrverg-nougat?