Look at this. It’s a 1996 Jeep Grand Cherokee. The finest vehicle in Christendom.
Why am I showing you this? Well, because yesterday, I had to push one of these sons of bitches the length of a city block by myself. The reason involves a long and mostly pointless account of dead batteries and car repair, but rest assured that the story ends with my brother behind the wheel and me pushing this 1.5 ton monstrosity down our alley and making startling new noises I’ve never made before.
14 hours later, my body still don’t feel right. My gait is shallow and uneven, like if Charlie Chaplin had shattered his femur. My back feels like it’s been tickled by the Goats of Torment. I pretty much hate you right now.
Anyway, long story short, we’ve got a Jeep Grand Cherokee with a shot battery for sale. If you want it, come over and push it yourself, you lazy bastard.