AutoNObiles. The Don'ts of Your Four-Wheeled Friend.
Isn’t it remarkable what you notice while out on the open road? That is, if you aren’t already balls deep in your phone while driving. Look at that! There’s strike one right out of the gate. Put your damn phone down when your right foot is hovering over an accelerator and/or brake. That ridiculously irrelevant Facebook feed can wait. Your eyes need to be on the road for multiple reasons: First and foremost, the safety of you and those around you. Sound silly? Refer to strike one above. There seems to be an influx of morons out on the streets more interested in a picture of a dog in a tutu than what the cars bumper in front of them might feel like when it smashes into their midsection. Second, you need to absorb the majesty of some of the yahoos out there and what they’re either driving or accessorizing their cars with. We all know the world is chock full of nutjobs, so why would their insanity NOT transfer over to their mobile life. A car isn’t just a mode of transportation, it’s a window into the very soul of the human behind the wheel.
The initial concept behind this article came from an ocular spectacle we’ve all fallen victim to….the rear dash Beanie Baby museum. What a marvelous sight to see! The Beanie Babies fad entered stage right and exited stage left quicker than Ed Sheeran at a high school talent show. It’s a crudely animated creature stuffed to the gills with beans. Never saw the infatuation, yet some folks sure did. Isn’t it amusing how a car’s decor can tell you so much about a person? This one screams lonely. The guilty parties in question are lower than cat people. Well, they may own a cat, but you can bet your fuzzy ass that it’s been stuffed and is placed atop a mantle in some decrepit home shrouded by moth-ridden curtains. These aren’t even the type of people who pass out toothbrushes for Halloween; they have their front light turned off to deter anyone from knocking on their door, for they’re too busy watering their collection of Chia Pets.
What does anyone do with a collection of anything anyway? Follow me. Stamps? Send some birthday cards to your relatives and take up another hobby. Coins? I don’t care if that quarter is from 1901 or 2001, if it’s considered valid currency do yourself a favor and buy some counseling sessions. Cereal box prizes, or really any prize that’s found suffocating at the bottom of a container of stale food. Let’s put Cracker Jacks and Happy Meals on the list while we’re at it. Care to guess what I’m going to start collecting? Dirt. I’m going to collect piles of dirt which I will then proceed to dump on top of these delinquents’ graves. Ya know what Beanie Babies in the back of a car tells me? It tells me that the driver needs a hug….from a bulldozer.
Speaking of scraping someone off of the face of the earth with heavy machinery, let’s select another absurd statement one might make using their car as a mobile soapbox. The Coexist bumper sticker. Now I have a legitimate question for our readers: Does that sticker come standard with every Toyota Prius ever sold? Have you seen that sticker on ANY other car? Oh, I must apologize. On every HYBRID! Shame on me. Don’t want to insult all those bullshitters out there guilting me into thinking their carbon footprint is smaller than Mickey Mouse’s dick. Shame on me yet again. Who am I to say that that lovable rodent isn’t hung like a pure bred stallion? For all we know it could be Pluto who’s not so well endowed. Irrelevant for tonight’s topic. Back to “coexisting”. Spare us all the feeble attempt at your self proclaimed title of ‘World’s Most Accomplished Environmentalist’. Your “statement” holds as much weight as a book written by Al Gore. Why don’t you both peel that lie off of your bumper and fill the back dash with some Beanie Babies? The list is too long and to exhaustive when it comes to the Tom Foolery associated with bumper stickers. As a matter of fact, I believe I touched on this topic in articles past. We’ll bring those back from the dead in the near future.
On to the next? Balls. Allow me to be more specific. Prosthetic rubber balls hanging from the back of a hitch. Much like the marriage between Prius and coexisting, I’m not so sure I’ve ever seen this monstrosity hanging from anything other than a truck. Usually a wildly over-sized truck because little old 5’7” has to compensate for the Pluto wiener. Let’s yank the phone books out from under these angry little elves and talk some more shit. I believe I understand the message correctly. “My truck has balls.” I’ll be damned if this isn’t another one of those scenarios where any combination of words fails to hit the mark. It’s akin to missing that last piece of the puzzle. What can you say? I swear if you stare long enough you’ll be able to make out veins. Why spare any details, right? You’ve already told us you have a fraternity paddle under your front seat and a stack of Affliction tee shirts crumpled up in you back seat, right next to the empty Monster beverages. Are you on your way to Hollister or American Eagle? Wait, no. You’re bee lining it right for a building with dumbbells and a mirror. Keep curling pal. One of these days, if we’re lucky, someone will neuter you AND your truck.
One more? We’ll do one and we’ll make it short and deservedly sweet. Eyelashes above headlights. Why is this happening? Who created them and why are people buying them? If it’s a feminine stance I can’t quite grasp the message. Perhaps it’s just meant to be cute? You’re an asshole. Geez, another puzzler. What can I say? What can you say? Nothing. All we can do is give those kooks the middle finger.
Life is a highway. I want to drive it all night long. So long as none of the aforementioned bozos are joining me.