flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
That’s supposed to be a Gremlin, just so you know — not because that’s what I drive, I have a reasonably reliable although somewhat elderly Honda Accord named Kaylee, but because it was either that or a Pinto. In related news, my knowledge of sad cars is probably somewhat dated.
You honestly don’t want to know how many scribbled versions of that really crude line drawing I went through. Stupid reference photos with their fancy souped-up Gremlins, making it hard to see the actual shape. Why would you do that? Why?
Anyway, he’s not so much pushing the car as collapsed atop it weeping inwardly, gazing up to the heavens in mute misery. Once agian, it’s a great life being my owl.