Shitbox is the term I use to describe my daily driver. This 25 year old pain in my ass has made everything possible for me in the last few years. Having a vehicle has allowed me to work alongside going to school full time and more easily access supplies I need.

Chorizo is the affectionate name I have given my truck, heavily influenced by my childhood spent in the lower Rio Grande Valley. Of course the reference has to do with the color, but also the similarity of my truck to those that are often modded and lowered within inches of the ground.

Driving a beater is like a curse or a cycle. In exchange for paying a monthly loan on my vehicle, every day I face the possibility that turning the key will fail. I run the risk of having catastrophic failure, like 2024 when I had to have my entire front end rebuilt with no warning. I’ve never seen the check engine light turn off, but I’m grateful every day to be able to drive.

The curse of being stuck with a vehicle like this is one of the aspects of the poverty line I am most familiar with. Not only myself, but my family has been caught in this cycle for over two full generations. I once asked someone important in my life what the key is to escape the cycle of a paid off vehicle. He said lottery tickets.