Black Cats also get bad luck

Oh, Yarra Trams? Can you guess the reasons as to why I never fail to faithfully purchase a Metcard before boarding your esteemed vessels?

1. In the grand ethical spectrum of Melbourne life, in a very black-and-white sense of the social world, I have come to believe that doing so is both morally right and my civil duty.
2. Negative reinforcement – I am scared shitless of being caught fare-evading, copping a $158 fine or ending up like this kid.
3. Peace of mind – I hate huddling at the back of the tram ready to jump out the window every time I see a group of people in dark coats lurking at the next stop and would much rather be sitting comfortably, ticket in hand, reading a book.
4. Because I want to stand in the icy cold dusk holding twenty kilos worth of groceries waiting for a tram that never arrives, or that will be excruciatingly full once it does, only to be forced to lug my frozen arse the four blocks from the intersection back to my apartment, juggling cartons of milk and chicken kebabs, trying not to drop my copy of A Tale of Two Cities, dodging psycho speeding cars and whipping winds, while my valid Metcard is sitting patiently in my wallet.
   
   

The answer to the above would be 1, 2 and 3. I spent this evening doing option number 4.

Thanks, Yarra Trams! I wish I could fine you $158 every time you screw me over with your late trams and outdated carriages and scary drivers.