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:
- Hooters.
- The restaurant.
- Hooter Girls.
- 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.
Dick.
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.
