Episode 96: Proper MOTORvation
You know, in hindsight, that old tired damn addage of having a set of wheels as a social status is true. When you have wheels, you've got lots of friends. That same group of friends, for some reason, they see you with wheels and it's an instant ticket to going anywhere they want to go. It's especially that way if they know that you're all about some road trips too. That group of friends will not only propose a road trip and make you feel practically awesome about taking them on it but they'll praise you, citing that it was your idea. Not only that, but they'll thank you for inviting them along.
The bad part is, most of them have their own rides but don't want to take them for one reason or another.
I have to say this, the minute your ride breaks down, they're suddenly nowhere to be found and you're left with such a lack of options that it's hideously pathetic. That whole car-shopping thing made me think long and hard about that. That's part of what took me so long to get one after selling the Camaro. The Camaro would have made a decent set of wheels but the problem is that it was more of a project than I had the time for. I'm glad that it was a buddy of mine who bought it. I get a progress report on it on a bi-weekly basis.
I had a list of criteria, you could say. I didn't want a car. Cars mean going fast and going fast means high insurance...especially here in Jerkwater, Louisiana. For some reason, every kid that saw The Fast And The Furious had to have some rice rocket with racing stripes and a performance engine. Ever since that, insurance rates jacked themselves way up. I settled on a truck. The problem with a good pickup is that most of them are so damn big. I'm not much on big vehicles. They're just too much hell on gas. It was only by luck that I found a '95 Nissan Hardbody. That's right...single cab. So far, the only people who've been in it since I got it are me and Phoenix. He was in it because I took him for a spin and showed him how smoothly the thing ran. Not only that but, for a '95, it's freakin' beautiful.
It did take me some getting used to after I got everything ironed out. I had to get used to a standard 5-speed transmission again. After knowing all the benefits of a 5-speed, I don't think an automatic is a good idea for me.
I ended up driving out to a friend's house to bullshit with him and talk shop with him. He's tearing his old house down to put another one on it and I'm thinkin, when I get a spare moment, I might just go help him out in getting it torn down. He's offering me the windows out of the old house and since they're in great shape, I might just take him up on the offer. After that, there's going to be one helluva crawfish boil and all of us here are invited. That's freakin' handy because that means I'm gonna park my ass on the damn tailgate and chow down when that happens. Hopefully, I won't scorch the roof of my mouth off doing it because many a Louisianian can tell you that if you don't have the taste for Southern Louisiana spice...your digestive system will hate you the next day and it will never forgive you for that again. I, being a native Louisianian can tell you that I've never been one to spice any of my food up to be hotter than hell in the middle of one of our Augusts but that doesn't mean that I haven't tasted that part of the 12th Circle of Hell before only to suffer in the bowels of the 13th later. Take it from me, when there's a house with only one bathroom, it's occupied and your stomach starts roiling...it's time to make a polite exit if you have time to and head for the house with a swiftness.
I'm getting way off, aren't I? Yeah, ok.
So I looked this truck over. Single cab, two seater (I'm not reaching in between someone's legs to grab my damn gearshifter), runs smoothly, CD player, just a bottom-line awesome truck that's been well-taken care of. Not to mention the price...a mere $3200. Not bad. The insurance is the only thing killing me right now. With my financier requesting full collision coverage (note the sarcasm with the word "Requesting") it's going to eat me alive. The payments aren't bad and the best part is, if something happens, I have all the protection I need. Still, the question I get most often is, "Is it 4-Wheel Drive?" No. Looks like it, though! It's actually rear-wheel drive with a lift kit and bigger tires. That means it actually goes five miles faster than what it reads on the speedometer. I keep this in mind always when I'm travelling.
I'm thinking I might go for a little drive for a bit. Couldn't hurt. This thing gets 25 miles to the gallon and, being that it's only a four-cylinder with a five-speed transmission, I'm bound to actually push that feul as far as it will go. Now, the question that I have is, do I put my voodoo beads or my indian headdress on the rearview? I already have the Brass Balls Keyring coming in. Why? Well, I figure after being half-assed stranded for so long, I might as well show off just a little.
As for those who will now need rides on a frivolous basis, I guess I'll just have to ask them why their numbers suddenly dwindled when my last car (a Mitsubishi Mirage) died on me. Fuck 'em.
The bad part is, most of them have their own rides but don't want to take them for one reason or another.
I have to say this, the minute your ride breaks down, they're suddenly nowhere to be found and you're left with such a lack of options that it's hideously pathetic. That whole car-shopping thing made me think long and hard about that. That's part of what took me so long to get one after selling the Camaro. The Camaro would have made a decent set of wheels but the problem is that it was more of a project than I had the time for. I'm glad that it was a buddy of mine who bought it. I get a progress report on it on a bi-weekly basis.
I had a list of criteria, you could say. I didn't want a car. Cars mean going fast and going fast means high insurance...especially here in Jerkwater, Louisiana. For some reason, every kid that saw The Fast And The Furious had to have some rice rocket with racing stripes and a performance engine. Ever since that, insurance rates jacked themselves way up. I settled on a truck. The problem with a good pickup is that most of them are so damn big. I'm not much on big vehicles. They're just too much hell on gas. It was only by luck that I found a '95 Nissan Hardbody. That's right...single cab. So far, the only people who've been in it since I got it are me and Phoenix. He was in it because I took him for a spin and showed him how smoothly the thing ran. Not only that but, for a '95, it's freakin' beautiful.
It did take me some getting used to after I got everything ironed out. I had to get used to a standard 5-speed transmission again. After knowing all the benefits of a 5-speed, I don't think an automatic is a good idea for me.
I ended up driving out to a friend's house to bullshit with him and talk shop with him. He's tearing his old house down to put another one on it and I'm thinkin, when I get a spare moment, I might just go help him out in getting it torn down. He's offering me the windows out of the old house and since they're in great shape, I might just take him up on the offer. After that, there's going to be one helluva crawfish boil and all of us here are invited. That's freakin' handy because that means I'm gonna park my ass on the damn tailgate and chow down when that happens. Hopefully, I won't scorch the roof of my mouth off doing it because many a Louisianian can tell you that if you don't have the taste for Southern Louisiana spice...your digestive system will hate you the next day and it will never forgive you for that again. I, being a native Louisianian can tell you that I've never been one to spice any of my food up to be hotter than hell in the middle of one of our Augusts but that doesn't mean that I haven't tasted that part of the 12th Circle of Hell before only to suffer in the bowels of the 13th later. Take it from me, when there's a house with only one bathroom, it's occupied and your stomach starts roiling...it's time to make a polite exit if you have time to and head for the house with a swiftness.
I'm getting way off, aren't I? Yeah, ok.
So I looked this truck over. Single cab, two seater (I'm not reaching in between someone's legs to grab my damn gearshifter), runs smoothly, CD player, just a bottom-line awesome truck that's been well-taken care of. Not to mention the price...a mere $3200. Not bad. The insurance is the only thing killing me right now. With my financier requesting full collision coverage (note the sarcasm with the word "Requesting") it's going to eat me alive. The payments aren't bad and the best part is, if something happens, I have all the protection I need. Still, the question I get most often is, "Is it 4-Wheel Drive?" No. Looks like it, though! It's actually rear-wheel drive with a lift kit and bigger tires. That means it actually goes five miles faster than what it reads on the speedometer. I keep this in mind always when I'm travelling.
I'm thinking I might go for a little drive for a bit. Couldn't hurt. This thing gets 25 miles to the gallon and, being that it's only a four-cylinder with a five-speed transmission, I'm bound to actually push that feul as far as it will go. Now, the question that I have is, do I put my voodoo beads or my indian headdress on the rearview? I already have the Brass Balls Keyring coming in. Why? Well, I figure after being half-assed stranded for so long, I might as well show off just a little.
As for those who will now need rides on a frivolous basis, I guess I'll just have to ask them why their numbers suddenly dwindled when my last car (a Mitsubishi Mirage) died on me. Fuck 'em.
posted by Lord Genocyde at 3:44 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home