Have you ever noticed how sometimes cars are a good indication of the people who drive them? It’s almost like automobile fate. Like the magician who drives a Rabbit. The geologist who drives a Topaz. The poet who drives a Stanza. The transvestite who drives a hybrid.
I knew a young girl who was a bit sleazy. She jumped around from boyfriend to boyfriend. Drove a Caprice. Caprice. Capricious. Never satisfied. I shoulda told you you had to study for this. She got old, married a few times and now she has a Caprice Classic. She got pretty rich, all those marriages. Lives in a big house, has a maid… who drives a Duster. Still chasing the young fellas around though in her NEW car, a Mercury Cougar.
Yeah that old gal got around. She wasn’t a hooker though. I DID know a girl who was. She walked the streets for years until she had saved enough to buy her SELF a Hummer. I told her if she had just taken better care of herself she could have had an Escort years before.
I never, uh, used her services though. As far as you know that’s not how I met her. She was friends with a girl I DID know though. Boy was SHE a tease! Dated her for a while and don’t think I even got to second base with her. As I remember she drove a Honda Prelude. Prelude to a shag, that’s what she was.
The day trader who drives a Venture. Math teacher who drives a Matrix. Singer who drives a Soul. Tonto, Robin, Art Garfunkle… they all drove Suzuki Sidekicks.
This reminds me of an accident I saw one time. It was awful. But I couldn’t look away! A Mustang nailed a Pinto, which, of course, exploded then turned into a Pony.
The mayor of my hometown drives a Civic. I know an animal doctor who drives a Vette. My optometrist drives a smart car. Yeah the CDI. (See dee eye?) Hey I know there’s a 5 drink minimum but try to keep up.
You see a lot of male porn stars driving around in Mitsubishi Lancers. And, yes, it’s true… most of them are black.
Another accident I heard about. This Rogue hit a Saloon and somehow ended up on a Quest. Or maybe it was an Odyssey. Anyway, almost rear ended a Ranger AND a Cherokee. But just missed the Fit.
I lived in Korea for 10 years. A buddy of mine just immigrated to Canada last year. He has an Accent. He was gonna buy an Outlander but I told him Canada’s not like that. If it wasn’t for his Accent he woulda got a Patriot.
Yeah he just gets here and already he’s driving around. I’m jealous. I don’t have a car but I really want one. At this point I’ll take anything that runs. I don’t care what it is. I just don’t give a shit. I’ll probably end up with a Cavalier.
Friend of mine thought he’d be smart and buy the cars that would decide his future. He wanted to travel the world and golf so he went out and bought a Lincoln Continental and a Volkswagen Golf. He joined the U.S. Navy, saw all the continents and took some shrapnel in the Persian Gulf. That’s what he gets for messing with his automobile fate.
Then there are these cars with nonsense names. The best ones are things that sound like they might be something. Solara. Sounds like something you put on a burn. Altima. When you come home too late you get that from the wife. Achieva. What you can do if you believa. If you want my impression… well I got the mike, if you want my impression or NOT really. They should change that. If you want my impression here’s Pat Sajack as a character from Sesame Street: “Psssst, hey! Hey you! You wanna buy a vowel?”
Where was I? Whether or not you want my impression, here it is: I WANT the job making up names for cars. Somebody sits around stringing random letters together, banging on the keyboard or rolling Boggle dice: “Qfornk. Does that sound like anything? Could that be anything? Could sell. Never know.” And they get very well paid for every name they sell. Since, as we all now know, people tend to gravitate toward cars that suit their personalities, if I had this job, I’d invent my car names with that in mind. A car for gay men, the Volkswagen Recter. “Recter? Damn near KILLED her!” Car for gay women, the Hyundai Pye. The car I seem destined to drive, the Nissan Hunkajunk. It’s a car for young folks just starting out.
I’m getting older though. My wife was joking with me in bed the other night. Said I used to be like a Mazda Zoom Zoom. Now I’m more like a Mitsubishi Endeavor. But I’m over 40… a classic. Men over 40 learn what the three most feared words in English are. Not “I love you.” Nope. (rubber glove gesture) “Try to relax.” You gotta get it done though like a good 10,000 kilometer tune-up. Had the old prostate exam, which is misnamed. My proctologist checked more than just the prostate. As Brent Butt, (ironically enough), says, “It’s like a guy fishing around for the last pickle in the jar.” It was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. But I distracted myself from the discomfort by concentrating on one important thing: that at NO time did he have more than one hand on my shoulder. So when Dr. Seymour Assman was FINALLY done he told me I was his last patient of the day and offered me a ride home… IN HIS BROWN PROBE.
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