Void had decided to check if the Detroit Car lot was still doing well despite the closure of 12th Street for renovations. He had been slightly worried about its commerce, given that the vast majority of cars were surely sold to get out of the vicinity of that miasma of death protruding from the 12th street public toilets as soon as possible.

With 12th Street being quarantined off as a class 4 biohazard by the mayor, Void had expected there to be less of an urgency for getting away, and thus less cars being sold. But nonetheless business seemed to be doing fine. Void however was shocked about something else.

"Where have the rinky-dink ford model Ts gone? Those hazardous but unsafe marvels of engineering? How will the proles such as myself be able to afford their personal transport now? All I am left with is high-end automobiles and that I certainly do not have the dough for after SherlockHolbbs steep bills."

"I'd rather drive around in a rusty mess which has the risk of falling apart any second, and is likely to cause at least 4 cases of vehicular manslaughter and at least one death of a beloved pet in its lifetime, than to not drive at all (though now that I think of it, my bicycle is still the king of the road)."