March 31, 2005
Pimpin' In My Hooptie
I spilled two pints of milk in the front seat of my car. Like, on the actual seat. It makes Husband gag just thinking about it. So I took it in to get detailed, and, like everyone who needs a car, we don't turn to friends or siblings, we turn to our parents. And why is this? Because our parents don't go anywhere.
My folks have His & Hers Lincoln Continentals. They are old people, they live in the suburbs, and yes, they own the road. Dad's is a 2000. Mom's is a 1988. I posed my request, hoping for the former, and got the latter. But not without some thinking aloud from Dad.
"Enh... well... yeah... there's a crack in the windshield..."
Wait, what? Crack in the windshield? Has Mom been off-roading in the Lincoln?
"But it should be okay."
Am I in some sort of peril here? Okay, tell me what's more likely to happen, just so I can brace myself. Breaking down in the middle of a busy intersection during rush hour? Or the car disintegrating around me so that I scooch to a halt on my smoking buttocks, legs splayed out in front of me, still holding the steering wheel, a la Wile E. Coyote?
"Maybe you should take my car. Yeah. No... Mom's car still runs pretty well. It's not that old."
Not that old? Dude, they melted down the Colossus of Rhodes to make this thing!
It's really unbelievable. It's like driving a living room, with a ping-pong table strapped to the front. The rust spots can no longer be ignored. The inside of the driver's side door has been repaired with brown electrical tape -- dark brown, so as to blend better with the deep burgundy leather interior. Classy.
Driving it is a real trip. I mean, for all it's ridiculousness, it's damn comfy (PERFECT for car $ex!!!), and seriously, I shouldn't be trusted with something that has this much horsepower. The only handling drawback is that I have to spin the wheel fourteen times to turn a corner.
But the crack in the windshield -- you can't see it in the picture, what with the morning sun glinting off the front acreage -- it's horizontal and travels the entire expanse of the glass. Ooooh, attractive and safe!
God, I never realized how ghetto this car is until I was forced to drive it. I gotta buy Mom a new car. Then I can pour a forty on the curb for this car cuz, dawg, it is whack.
Comments
that's my darling white suburban stepmom!
(pinching her cute little cheeks)
yes you are!
so adorable when she talks jive. (or is that ghetto? kids these days, and their slang....)
Posted by: heather at March 31, 2005 03:06 PM
The best is the sun glinting off it like a Bruce Springsteen song
Posted by: qfe at March 31, 2005 03:10 PM
This whole entry was just an excuse for you to talk about your "smoking buttocks", wasn't it?
Posted by: Marty at March 31, 2005 07:54 PM