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This past weekend I was in Atlanta, Georgia. Unlike 90 percent of visitors to Atlanta, I was not there for the #ATLast Outkast show. I was there to attend the funeral of a cousin of mine who passed away unexpectedly at age 45. Do not cry for me Argentina. The service was beautiful and I held strong until my family decided to gut punch every single person in the church at the end of the service.

See, my cousin who passed, Rod, was a singer. Like a sanger singer. He sang at what seems like a million funerals because he had one of those voices that got you emotional. He was a great guy all around, but that voice. Lawdjeefus. Well, we're going through the service filled with a lot of singing so there were a lot of tears, but the coup de grace…

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…they played a live recording of him singing one of his favorite songs. Not a studio recording…but a live recording of him singing at a church service.

Lord.

Have.

Mercy.

All the tears.

There was nothing a thug could do. The interment was also super duper sad. The finality of the interment has always been hard for me. There's something about the end that brings about a certain level of emotion in me. When my brother passed some years ago, I vividly remember the interment of his ashes. For some reason, and despite the fact that he'd been cremated very quickly, the returning of his ashes to the ground was difficult for me. Anyway, Rest In Paradise to my cousin Rod.

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Now that I've depressed you, let me switch gears. While Atlanta, GA, is home, my mother is actually originally from Newnan, Georgia. Actually, she's from outside of Newnan in a town so small its not on Google Maps. She's from a place called Blackjack, Georgia. This is about 40 miles south of Atlanta, down 85-South. So the entire weekend, I was back and forth between Atlanta (where I was staying in case I ended up going out with friends, etc) and Newnan. I made this trip -there and back- twice. Truthfully, I could have stayed down in Newnan considering I spent the vast majority of my time there but I can't be in the A without being the A. Aye? Aye. My mom is from Newnan…moi? Westside all day.

Anyway, I rented a car and had a few of the most ignorant situations occur while attempting to do so but that's neither here nor there. I ended up with a Hyundai Accent. Full disclosure: I did not want to drive a Hyundai Accent. I wanted to drive something cooler. I figure if I'm going to use a car for a few days, I may as well ride around in style. That did not happen. Why didn't it?

Because I ended driving an Accent.

I got this vehicle and it had a full tank of gas. Over the next two days, driving back and forth to Newnan and driving all around Atlanta making various stops at all of the places I require myself to go whenever I'm in the A (family stops, driving by my old house, cemetery to visit my grandmother and other cousin's gravesites) I lused only 3/4  a tank of gas.

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When it was time to return the car to the rental facility, I went to a gas station to fill up and I swear fo' God and three white men, that I put a $24.17 worth of gas into that car and it filled it up. Now, come to find out, this car only has a 12 gallon tank, and yet, those 12 gallons get more miles per gallon than my 16 gallon tank car. When the pump stopped because the tank was full I refused to believe it. It only read $24 and that was impossible. And yet, I cracked the engine and #wallahmagic, the tank was full and the "miles to empty" meter said 400 miles.

Nigga.

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I did a shmoney dance and said to myself, I need a Hyundai Accent. I began looking around the car determining if it had enough space for what I might  need it for. Shole do. Did it have enough trunk space? Shole did.

I was outchea contemplating buying  a really tiny car that nobody looks cool in purely because of the gas mileage. When you can fill up a car for less than $40, it takes you back to the 90s, a time we can all agree was just better for life in general (even if it wasn't). I was on my phone at the airport looking up prices. That car retails under like $15k.

Which is when it dawned on me. Either I'm getting smarter or older. Or maybe both. Or maybe just a little too reasonable because there was clearly a time when gas mileage was the least of my concerns. I purchases a Dodge Magnum with the V8 Hemi when gas prices were at their highest because yolo. I drove clean off the lot…

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…to a gas station because I was getting around 13 MPG. My car now is around 25MPG. And I'm salivating at 35+. I was having this conversation with one of my former NFL playing cousins who has some hulking monstrosity of a truck back home in Denver and this ninja told me he wants a Prius to do his day to day driving. We both know whats up.

All I know is seeing that gas gauge fill up and I'd only spent $24 had me looking at that car with a lust I haven't known in quite some time.

It mad me feel some type of way.

Hold me.