Cars, cars, cars

If you are a friend on FB, and most of you are, you saw the fact we saw a Lamborghini Countach this weekend … at the K-Mart parking lot. (Side note, we were going to Mancino’s for lunch, which is in the same shopping center. We were not going to K-Mart. I have to be really bored, or be feeling really dirty, if I want to shop at K-Mart.)

The car, which my friend has declared to be a kit car (which is the most likely scenario), is driven by a guy looking to be in the throes of his mid-life crisis, who is the cool every-other-weekend-dad letting his kid ride shotgun on the way to K-Mart. I don’t know for sure – it could be a genuine Countach, the guy could just be super-loaded because he has a thriving horse farm, and he could be the best dad in the world, spending all his waking moments with his little blond male offspring because his mom died in a horrible car accident, and he’s just trying to prove to his kid cars are not vicious killing devices, but rather awesome machines. Honestly, though, which scenario sounds more likely to you?

Anyway, seeing that car made me think of some of the cars I’d love to have … and, you know, the longer list of cars I won’t own. By “won’t own” I do mean cars that, if you handed me the keys and said, “here, free of charge,” I would immediately jump in the driver’s seat and head to the closest dealership to trade it in. (There are others I’m not a huge fan of, but if you handed me the keys to, say a Porsche Cayenne, I’d say, “thanks,” and, after raiding your piggy bank to pay the property taxes on it, I’d gladly drive that thing. Cars like that are not a part of my list.)

Minivan
Yes, I know plenty of you who have one or more
children and think me crazy for this sweeping proclamation. There are a few things at play in this decision. First of all, I’m a big believer in having a car that fits you. Any of you who know me, and know what I drive, my car fits me very well. A minivan does not, in any way whatsoever, reflect anything about me. None. Second of all, I have one kid. I don’t plan on having more. And I don’t own a construction business, an HVAC business, or have a band. Therefore a van is not an option.

Yeah, there’s also the Bill Engvall bit. That doesn’t help matters any.

Station wagon
My rationale for a station wagon is very much the same for a minivan. Except there’s one thing at play here that’s not at play with the minivan, and that’s the Carol Brady factor. For some reason, when I think station wagon, I think back to The Brady Bunch, and the hideous tank of a station wagon Carol and Alice drove. (Oh no, Mike drove the convertible, he drove the cool car.) I hate the Carol Brady hair flip, and I hate her car … when my hair is short, I work explicitly hard to avoid the Carol Brady hair flip (and if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you should see my 8th grad yearbook picture, OMG) and I will also actively avoid her goober-mobile.

Toyota Camry

Now, let’s get one thing straight, my anti-Camry stance has nothing to do with the gas pedal thing. I’ve had this mentality for years. My main thing is that every mom who drives a sedan in this area, particularly Georgetown, drives a Camry. Honestly, me, drive the same car as everyone else? Right. Yeah, um, no, I’ll stick with being an individual.

Don’t get me wrong, Toyota is the reason my town exists – and I’m grateful for that. But I am not willing to be a Camry sheep. No offense to the people I know who do drive Camrys. Rock on with your bad selves. It’s just not for me. I need a little zoom-zoom.

Anything that remotely resembles a toaster/cube/box or anything other than a car

This includes, but is not limited to, old-school Civics, Scion xBs, Honda Elements, Toyota FJ Cruiser

My best friend in high school drove an old-school Civic, and my mom called it “toaster car.” Seeing as how My Bryan could do nothing wrong in those days, I vehemently defended his car. Looking back, I don’t know why I defended that car. It’s not like he picked it out, it was free. What did he care? It did look like a toaster.

But the fact of the matter is, I don’t want a car in a boxy shape, or one that the horn makes the “ping” sound of a toaster instead of a real horn. Or one whose exhaust smells like jelly.

Smart car

Those things are freaky. I don’t know that I can handle being in a car that I could likely pick up and throw around the parking lot. Furthermore, I’m claustrophobic, it’s not safe for me to hyperventilate and drive – and I would have to give up shopping because there’s nowhere for me to store my treasure trove of goodies from when I shopping. As if.

Besides, I’m in America, not Europe. We believe in gas guzzlers, not gas sippers around here. Furthermore, the area I live in contains many large trucks – and half of the people who drive said big trucks don’t know how to handle them. I’d like to be in a car in which I have a remote chance of surviving an encounter with a dually, thankyouverymuch. (And yes, before you ask, I would drive a dually.)

Aztek 
Who the hell thought this was a good idea? Obviously some imbecile at Pontiac. Seeing as how Pontiac is no more, one might venture to say that idiot brought the whole company down. Why not? It’s fun. But seriously, these things are obnoxious looking, they are huge, they are pointless, and did I mention they are obnoxious looking? Look, you can take your Aztek to the beach, put the liftgate up, and add a tent. Um, if you want to camp out, use a tent without your car. That defeats the purpose of camping, might as well be at a Holiday Inn (or, if you’re me, a Hampton Inn).

Nissan Maxima

I’m not a fan of anything Nissan, to be honest. You will randomly hear me scream, “Nissan Versa,” when I see one, mainly because I think Hiro was cute. Anyway … no, I will not own a Maxima on the pure and simple fact that their sunroof is retarded. R-E-T-A-R-D-E-D. I don’t care if it’s a modern mechanical miracle, and it’s better than my standard sunroof – I won’t drive a car that looks like it’s got a maxi pad sitting on the top. In fact, I’ve been known to call those “maxi-pad sunroofs.” (And they’re on Maxima’s … oh the irony!) I’m sorry, I just cannot get past that. (And now you’ll never be able to look at a Maxima the same way again. You’re welcome.)

And, guys, if you don’t want to think about “maxi-pad sunroofs,” the term “skid-mark sunroof” will work just fine. It conjures a similar mental image.

Cadillac Escalade 

Even moreso, I hate those rims. Grrr. I hate skinny tires.

You know, I simply don’t roll with my mind on my money and my money on my mind.

Mazda Miata
I love my zoom-zoom as much, and probably moreso than, anyone. But Miatas scare the crap out of me. They look like Bigfoot walked up and squashed it. I mean, I’m not a tall individual but I walk by a Miata and it looks like I could stack three of them on top of each other and I could still see over the top of the stack. That’s just not right. Those things look like a death trap, I can’t even imagine being in one.

Any car with a front end longer that is more than half the length of the car
You know the ones I’m talking about. Those old boats your grandma drove. The Oldsmobile (ha, they are defunct now too!), Buick, etc. Yeah, I had a hard enough time driving Scott’s Trans Am because I couldn’t see where the car ended, I don’t even want to picture driving around in one of those. I’d get a ticket for following too closely every day. “I’m sorry officer, I just couldn’t read that dude’s hilarious bumper sticker.”

Or worse yet, parking them.
“No, I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to give you a prostate exam, sir, I just couldn’t see the end of my car. Thanks for stopping it for me.”

“Oh, man, you really do have some junk in your trunk.”