The Wacky Stasis

My car doesn't start, and it's all my fault.
I got my car for free, as the result of a de-facto break-up a year ago. I also got a broken heart, an iMac and all the good kitchenware, so things could've been worse.
I'm relatively new to the vehicular arts (a late bloomer in the driving-lesson stakes) so I currently hold only a provisional licence, and a healthy respect for the dangers of driving. As a result, I drive like a nanna on Valium, and as infrequently as possible.
I walk to work and to the shops, so my car battery, having been left to fester in its own foamy acid-discharge, is as useless as antlers on a halibut.
Basically what I have parked out the front of my house is a lump of P-plated metal with doors. And fuzzy 8-balls hanging from the rear-vision mirror. And cobwebs on the tires. Seriously.

I hate to see a perfectly good chassis go to waste, so I've come up with some possible alternative uses for my forsaken, perpetually stationary automobile.

Greenhouse
I know from experience how soupy and jungle-esque the interior of my car can get if it sits out in the sun, so it may be just the perfect agricultural environment for ferns, orchids and the like. I could water it through the window, fertilise it through the hatchback and maybe get a lemur in.

Clown Rehearsal Workshop
I'm happy to hire out my vehicle to let clowns rehearse the old "look-how-many-of-us-get-out-of-this-wacky-car" chestnut. Group discount, of course.

Meetings
Lending a certain Cone-Of-Silence air to important meetings, my car can facilitate up to four delegates comfortably. Refreshments can be inserted into the handy cup-holders, and important documents stored in the glovebox. Overhead projectors may not be logistically feasible.

Haircuts
More salon than saloon, my car has everything. Tilt the chair back for over-the-basin washing, have the hairdresser sit behind you in cushioned comfort, open the window to assist drying, and see the finished product from most angles using a number of mirrors. Mind the blind spot.

Hiding Place
From the innocence of Hide-and-Seek to the comparative gravitas of Osama-style secretions, my car has comfort, locking doors and tinted windows. The radio doesn't work without the battery, so unless you sneeze or step on a loud stick, nothing will give you away.

Chicken Coop
Ironically, without a battery, my car could still be used for battery hens – I envision the eggs being delivered out the exhaust pipe. I couldn't do this, though – I'm strictly a free-range girl, so I suppose I'd have to limit it to a maximum of four hens, and maybe a cock, for breeding purposes. Luckily, my car is guaranteed fox-proof!

Kiddie Jail
When the neighbourhood urchins get at the bikkie-jar and go on Ritalin-proof rampages, I could simply charge parents a small fee to strap them into my car and wind up the windows, leaving them free for cocktail parties and the viewing of non PG-rated television. The aforementioned tinted windows would help guard against paedophiles, but I'd be sure to leave them open a crack. This ain't the casino, y'know.

Place To Put Pens
Or rubber bands.