What to drive when you live in a
roach motel crappy apartment and have a fondness for Jim Beam that sometimes gets away from you. (Ed.: That would explain the cage?) What happened to the paint? Ask the Kraft American cheese slices.
Moral of the story: Whiskey is for riding in the back seat of the cab and getting freaky. Otherwise, your car won’t be the only one on lockdown.
Also, Kraft slices are like molecular acid on your soul. And your gut. And your car.