Ron Rice says leave my car alone.

Letting you back it out of the frat house driveway that one snowy day in no way entitles you to even look at it again. – Ron Rice

They like you very much, but they are not the hell “your” whales.

FWIW, I have no explanation why my life keeps coming back to big Lincolns and Ford wagons. It certainly must be mere coincidence. Yeah, that could totally be it.

1970 Ford Country Squire — “Don’t tell me…you’re from outer space.” … “No, I’m from Iowa. I only work in outer space.”

Atlantic City

Live on the streets of Phoenix.

Lincoln Continental Town Car — Vegas is closer

Indulge your inner 70s mobster

I have this uncontrollable urge to:

go to University Lincoln Mercury for uh, no particular reason
babysit for a dead guy who owns fried chicken joints.

Chrysler Imperial — The big Corellian ship of legend

If Darth Vader sold real estate with Uncle Bob instead of slapping swords with Ben K. of Tatooine.

What to drive

when you’re an asshole scoutmaster, because:

1977 Mercury Colony Park — I thought you pulled out already. [TWSS]

if you’ve got to rear end somebody…

Best London taxi Ever

All rise… for the Rolls-Royce Phantom VI – BBC Top Gear.

Mrs. Shenstone

had one like this

1977 Oldsmobile Delta 88 — except in red

Why do I remember her? Oh, no reason…

Leisure Suits and Gold Chains

I’ve got the obligatory Hendrix perm and the inevitable pinhole burns Now all down the front of my favorite satin shirt I’ve got nicotine stains on my fingers, I’ve got a silver spoon on a chain Got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains… Pink Floyd, Nobody Home It’s the 1970s. You are […]

1977 Chevrolet Monte Carlo — cocaine and hookers beats amway sales meetings every time

Maybe the 70’s weren’t a complete waste of time after. Given the choice, I would take the Disco Stu/Larry the Lounge Lizard Monte Carlo over the middle management, “I’m late for that widget convention at the airport Super 8” Malibu every single time. “Progress” can kiss my leopard print covered/Hai Karate scented ass.

No, it’s not because you could do hookers and blow (simultaneously) on that giant hood. Well, not ENTIRELY because of that.

Messenger Puppet

Indulge Your Inner Weirdo

1977