I’m going to do what I do best: suspend reality. I have no problem thinking that the good ole’ 1999 Lex SUV that we bought when my family first moved to North Carolina, which currently has 223,000 miles on it, is going to last forever. It was born in the durty south, and by golly it will die here too. Ah, the circle of life.
Does it help that dumb dumb couple of the century Mags n Snags decided to take that thing on an Americane exodus all around the southeastern and mid-atlantic landmarks of the United States? Nopity. But truth be told… it is I who has not had the best of luck with automobiles.
Exhibit A: A Delaware, OH towney named Dale scissored the life out of both mine and Rachel’s parked cars, as this numbnuts thought our driveway was Route 23 and peed his acid-washed jeans. The DPD is, as a matter of principle, on my shiz list, but also on Larry’s for the suspiciously anti-semitic handling of the entire incident. Watch out, D-town.
Moving smartly along, below are some of my ideal cars. I fancy myself a boss, and thus need a vehicle I can whip around in with large sunglasses, a venti Itlaian roast in one hand, windows down blaring something obnoxious like Miley, Lil’ Kim, or Brad Paisley.
And last but not least, my undying love for all things Swedish (Ikea, CF Male Counselors, Pipi Longstocking, Meatballs, Elin Nordgren, and Alexandar Skarsgard) remains paramount for the truly dignifed and elegant vessel that is the Saab Convertible, R.I.P.