Beast From Hell

We went through many names, trying to name the evil, pure evil, car above.
Including, but not limited to, King Henry the Eighth, Satan Car, The Titanic, Dalphin, and Lurcher.
Of course, while I was yelling obscenities and trying to reverse out of the Creamery parking space, nothing rolled off the tongue quite like "Beast from Hell."
Believe it or not, I can drive a stick, and relatively well, at least as well as I can drive an automatic. But Paige's car is not a manual. It is not really a car at all.
We couldn't get it to go over 40, which was too bad, on the highway.
Or reverse without convulsing.
Or shift down without lurching.
Or stop at a stoplight, and then go again without dying.

But it's about to really die, since I'm currently debating how I should like to kill it.
Burned at the stake?
Dissembled and crushed?
Pushed off a cliff?

That last one is feeling good to me.
I hate you, Beast from Hell.