Hot Aussie Cars

Alright, let’s fucking go. Bloody hell, it’s like the goddamn sun itself is taking a piss on me. 42 degrees? Are you serious, mate? Feels like my eyeballs are sweating. Australia, you absolute bastard. Summer just punches you in the face every year and you have to take it, no questions asked. Not a cloud in the sky to save my arse.

Jesus Christ, there’s the car, shimmering like some mirage, just sitting there, daring me to touch it. Glistening like it’s about to explode. Great, my Holden Commodore — the metal death trap. I swear to God, whoever designed this thing didn’t even think for a second that people might live in places where the planet itself is trying to cook you alive. It’s basically an oven on wheels. Here we go.

Keys, keys, fuck, where are the bloody keys? Oh, right. Here. Alright, mate, deep breath, get ready. Open the door. Holy shit! It’s like opening the gates to hell. That heat slaps me in the face like it’s personal. The seatbelt buckle is basically molten steel, and the steering wheel? Forget about it. It’s a goddamn branding iron. I could cook a steak on this fucker. I should’ve parked under the bloody tree, but no, had to get close to the entrance like some dickhead. Well, now I’m paying for it.

Right, just gotta psych myself up. I’ll sit down, just for a second. Get in. Argh! My arse! Shit! Feels like I’ve sat on a barbecue grill. This car is literally trying to kill me. Should’ve brought a towel or something, but of course, that would require some form of planning. Maybe crack a window, but who am I kidding? That’s like throwing a tissue at a bushfire. This aircon better get going fast, or I’m not making it home alive.

Alright, here we go, key in the ignition. Turn it over, you old bastard. Come on... There! Thank Christ. If this piece of shit doesn’t die on me halfway home, it’ll be a miracle. The fan kicks in, blowing hot air straight at my face. Yeah, thanks for that. I really needed a fucking hairdryer in here.

Soon as the aircon kicks in, I'll be fine. If I don't melt into a puddle first. Wouldn’t be the first time some poor prick got fried in his car like a chook. Alright, let’s go. Home’s not far. Just gotta survive the next twenty minutes without catching fire. Bloody Australia. I love this place, but sometimes, I swear it's out to fucking get me.