Where I saw one: Getting on the 51 today. Nostalgia Value: 5/10 Baseline: 0 – I never owned one.
+1 for being a Ford-badged Mazda. Way better than being a Ford-badged Kia. +1 because I almost bought one, after my Festiva suffered it’s criticalassimplosion, +1 for orange dash lights, +1 for not burning to the ground the night I set one on fire, +1 because Dribble crashed hers under a semi, mooting the fact that I torched a brand new car while hammered on gasoline/everclear cocktails.
I nearly bought one, then the future Mrs. talked me into a Suzuki Swift instead. What the FUCK was i thinking. (Besides “indulge the GF and get laid”)?
Another day, another dude freaking out in the tunnel of love scratched paint and clean whitewalls. Supposedly, it’s over glasses. In my experience, dark, noise, meth withdrawal, DTs or the cocaine OD death of Kevin DuBrow are all just as likely.
HT: Winding Road
In honor of this, the car of the day is the Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera
Marge Gunderson is not looking for you, exactly
Why? Because every Sunday in the summer, like clockwork, this late-20s chica would come by for a mid-afternoon vacuum and a wash for her little pink Ciera. She always put on a show at the vacuums, and always managed to miss a few buttons on her blouse when it came time to run the car through the tunnel.
Sadly, she only ran her actual car through my actual car wash tunnel and not the (awkward) metaphoric reverse.
Sometimes life does not completely suck. I took my car to Power Ford North Scottsdale, which used to be Ford of North Scottsdale, which used to be Bill Luke Ford and before that Don Seelye Ford. Time for a LOF, plus I had a little wiggle in the steering and my gas gauge was occasionally possessed by the devil. Since I was there, I asked them to take car of the trunk light, which got beat up by stuff in the trunk, a seat latch, which the kiddoes broke, and my power seat trim, which my pantleg ripped from the seat.
Me: did you find the electrical gremlin? PFNS: You need a new gas tank, dude. Me: Quality is Job 1.
Yesterday, the bill comes.
Busted trim – N/C to replace
gas tank- N/C to replace
balance and rotate – 70; steering is all better
LOF – 30
So, we’re all good. they screwed up my LOF coupon, but otherwise, hassle free and a million times better than Earnhardt’s in every way.
Also, moms is fine. Just a little bloodletting surgery to brighten an otherwise dull week. No worries.
Where I saw one: Commuting on surface streets, since the highway was chock full of nuts.
Nostalgia Factor: -1,000,000/10.
Baseline 0, since I never owned one.
+1 for being a kick ass evil henchman sedan. -1 for being German, which means a 50% chance of being a giant piece of shit. +1 for this one having a big honking V8. -1, because he could have ordered a V12. -1,000,001 because once upon a time…
The year was 2002. 2002 was a weird year. I started representing a strip club. My then-wife said she was OK with it.
[The subsequent three years/divorce and shit sort of belies that.]
There was this 50-something trust fund baby named Peter, who I did not represent. Pete wanted in on the business; Pete liked chicks. Pete also drove a 7. We wanted Pete to sign an affidavit, to help make some wise guy wannabe move on. Pete and I went to lunch one day at Hooters.
Pete filed a bar compliant to get me off a later case? His evidence that I had a conflict of interest? Lunch at Hooters, where we talked about:
what he was going to do to with the one girl he just hit on.
BMW HVAC systems, and why German ones suck ass.
His lawyer’s fax number so his lawyer could review what I wanted him to sign.
I blame his car. Actually, I don’t, but they are linked together. I don’t think of the newer ones that way, but they have that stupid iDrive, which sucks ass even worse than Pete’s HVAC.
The good news in all this? The complaint was summarily dismissed. This week I got a letter saying my record will be expunged since I am not the demented fuckhead/ evil genius he claimed. Yay me.