Or, Only In Arizona (since they have long since returned to dust everywhere else (we can hope))
Kinda makes you want to hang out the window of a LeMans and drunkenly yell “oi,” doesn’t it? Actually, one time Merloid did that to me FROM one of these shitboxes. What a proud day that was – to be called a loser by a loser.*
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*Anyone riding in a Pinto by choice is a loser. Period. It’s indelible. You can redeem yourself with, e.g., Plymouth Fury V-8s and shit like that, but still, it’s a black mark on your soul.
Makes me want to fly through Chicago air space. Not, of course, while confessing repressed homosexual feelings.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
Huh?
C’mon, Dr G.
Think Henry Gibson, Ray Bans, black and white Mopar, Nazis and gravity.
I tried to find a link to a site that had a picture, but there doesn’t seem to be anything out there.
The reverence is all from me to you, good Dr. I bow in you general direction.
How’s that for switching metaphores?
OK, got it now. I don’t really associate that movie with pintos. Just car crashes, which for some reason fixate me.
I was trying to think of some reverence in your or my individeual histories, and was drawing a complete blank.
Fortunately.
reference, not reverence