"Impala Alice"
"It's just a waste", said either my mother, or any of a string of various other women whose pronouncements my mother had informed me over the years that I should pay attention to. It should be said that this was not said in a recriminating manner, not at all. Just stating facts.
And I knew, of course, that she was (and they were) right. I had squandered a lot of my time, most of my talents, and every last drop of of the good bourbon, and all I really had to show for it was an unfortunate string of boyfriends and a bunch of notebooks full of silly words. This was said in a recriminating manner. So it goes.
This afternoon I saw a rusted-out upside-down early 70's Impala floating down I-95 chained onto the back of a flatbed wrecker, which was only in slightly better shape. The Chevy looked like it had gotten run over by something even bigger and bossier, but still, I bet she had some stories.
My mom's first car was a similar vintage, and she's told me some tall tales of various boys in its back seat. Sometimes waste is just a thing that happens.