Car Trouble follows Jim Crack, a down-and-out young man whose misadventures across the freeways and backstreets of Southern California form a gritty, chaotic odyssey of personal implosion. What begins with his Volkswagen catching fire on the 5 Freeway spirals into a bleak but strangely comic day filled with existential spirals, weed smoke, porn, broken relationships, and failed attempts to find meaning in a world so dependent on cars, status, and surface-level happiness. Through vivid flashbacks and derailed digressions, Jim’s day of misfortune exposes a lifelong grappling with abandonment, identity, trauma, and a simmering, unshakeable rage toward the machinery of life, both mechanical and societal.

Reading this book was like crawling inside someone’s unfiltered stream of consciousness. Zorn’s writing is raw and intense, often hilarious, sometimes painful, and always fully immersed in Jim’s spiraling, disillusioned psyche. There were moments I laughed, like the pure absurdity of a landscaping crew rescuing Jim from a flaming car, only to feel a gut punch pages later as he sinks into total emotional paralysis on a crusty couch with nothing but a bong and old porn for comfort. Zorn captures the erratic rhythm of thought with a ferocity that reminded me of Bukowski meets Vonnegut, but with more exhaust fumes and burnt-out brake lights. The prose veers wildly. Sharp, punchy lines land like jabs to the ribs, then unravel into stoner-poetic rants or tragic internal monologues that drip with disillusionment.

But what really hit me hard was how real it all felt. Jim’s pain, his failures, the weird moments of tenderness or sudden clarity linger. This book doesn’t follow a clean arc. It doesn’t tie up neatly. That felt true to life. At times, I was frustrated by the sheer amount of dysfunction, the digressions, the lack of redemption. But maybe that’s the point. This isn’t a story about fixing things. It’s about someone living in the fallout of a life already shattered, trying, failing, and trying again in ways that are small, stupid, human. The way Zorn writes about cars as both literal death traps and symbols of modern isolation stuck with me after I closed the book.

I wouldn’t recommend Car Trouble to everyone. It’s harsh. It’s crude. It’s uncomfortable. But if you’ve ever been young, broke, high, angry, and unsure what you’re supposed to be doing with your life, this book will feel painfully familiar. It’s for readers who crave something raw and don’t mind wandering through the smog of existential burnout.

Pages: 273 | ASIN ‏ : ‎ B07CP4R132