She MIGHT read this. It seems like a low percentage shot, though. Maybe this is for missed connections that you hope stay missing?
Curbhunter: it’s not for the weak or stupid or poor. Unlike so many other things in my life lately, two of three IS bad. This guy seems to have avoided all three:
- not poor, because: year old Range Rover
- not weak, because balls enough to park a Range Rover outside the shithole complex that makes Mesa Ridge Apartments look like luxury condos.
- Maybe that is stupid. So is overnight parking in general. But look in the front seat! A GIANT PUKE BUCKET! That is
malice aforethought Eagle Scout like preparation. You can’t always find a Hill Auditorium trash can when you need one.
In every sense.
I’m driving the
thing that is not a redRam 1500 with a Hemi and a touchscreen that I REALLY want car to the office. Around the corner, I see a parked Camry with a critical ass implosion. It’s like my neighbors’ kids after one of their constant DR calls. Plus it’s a Camry: a crash is an improvement.
About a month ago, we noticed some newspaper attention for a car show we go to every month. Concurrently, the “usual suspects” (whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean) changed the name of this thing from “Cars and Coffee” to “Scottsdale Motorsports Gathering.” The new name seemed a bit pretentious; the media coverage portended more everything in the following months.
And it happened.
What ever happened to the Heisenberg-mobile? We last saw it abandoned in the New Mexico desert, after taking a bullet to the gas tank. But then what? Yes, it sounded knocky and horrible, running out of gas. Yes, it’s ORV career was a bit more arduous than most SUVs ever experience (going to Costco). But still, it had a Hemi. And it was a great bargain.
The government couldn’t seize it, because it was a lease. Hopefully it got repo’ed, rather than suffer the ignominy of eroding into the wastelands where it was abandoned. Imagine the street cred if you stumbled onto this while out cooking meth in an RV. A can of gas and a piece of bazooka to plug the hole in the tank and it’s “look ma, now ‘I’m the danger.'”
Alas poor 300. We think more likely you’re dead in your tracks, felled by a hail of bullets, then a fusillade of sand and wind and heat and the burning death that is the sun. R.I.P(s).
It’s a Jeep thing. You wouldn’t understand.
And I guess I should, but I just don’t. I joined the cult of Jeep in 2002. I bought a “pre-lifted” ’02 Jeep Liberty. Jeep quickly realized that all that extra clearance and height made them more tippy, so they
cut the springs in half made a mid year adjustment to reduce the ride height. The extra height I had (vs. the ex’s 2wd 2003 Liberty) was key. Hers was a grocery getter; I had dreams of something beyond crawling down dirt roads, afraid of a scratch. Something more like a Jeep Wrangler. Something like this: