Nobody Messes With My Ride, Fool!


You pancaked my van! I’m gonna kill you, fool! ~B.A. Baracus, “The A-Team” (2010)

License plate PTYDAFUL

There are days I’m glad to be driving a late-’90s Toyota instead of, say, a flashy Corvette or a DeLorean. Yesterday was a great example. My workplace, which has never been in the ritzy end of town, experienced a car break-in. Internally I breathed a sigh of relief. Nobody got hurt, and perhaps more importantly, it wasn’t my car. That’s on top of a hit and run driver which left a Subaru back bumper-less.
 
When it comes to my own ride I have a weird relationship. I’m not driving all over town flaunting my wheels or up and down mountain roads re-living some goofy TV commercial. At the same time I’m very fond of my little car. It gets about 30 MPG (handy), has leather seats and a sunroof (sweet), and accelerates at a deceptively quick rate (awesome.) Not just that: did I mention it’s a Toyota? With only 80K on the odometer? It’ll still be running 20 years from now if I play my cards right. With the economy the way it is, I’ll take that over a big SUV or a sports car with a spoiler and rims. When you work the job I do, it’s all about saving money.
 
 
You can call me a chauvinistic American…I’m pretty damn protective of my car. I’m glad I don’t live in New York or Chicago or someplace where driving isn’t so practical. Despite gas prices hovering well over three bucks, there’s hardly anything I love more than throwing a picnic lunch into the car and driving to a new destination. Riding in a taxi or a bus or train just doesn’t carry that same mystique.
 
Anyway…I still don’t quite get the reasons for my automotive hangups. I don’t even like strangers riding in or driving my car. I’d rather walk a mile than have some pimply teenager valet-parking. Parallel parking? Using a parking garage? Fugeddaboutit, unless there’s no other option. I usually even park the car where I can see it through the windows at work. You know, just to make sure the poor thing is all right without me.
 
As for what would happen if someone ever *did* pancake my ride? May I draw your attention to the following clip:
 
 
My reaction, I regret to say, would be much worse. Better watch out, sucka! Just for the record, too, if I ever win the lottery or receive a substantial inheritance, I’m upgrading my ride big-time. You know it, fools.
 

H.M. and his new ride

 
 
Enjoyed this post (and you know you did)? Be sure to click “Like” and add P&Q to your daily reading list. Got questions or non sequiturs for the author? Send ’em to wikusandmurdock@yahoo.com, sucka!
 
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~ by Howlin' Mad Heather on October 19, 2011.

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