Right. You see these guys in these oversized sumbitches that are so big you can't see around them. And they're spotless; you can tell they're for show and not work. I firmly believe in the adage that these guys have these monsters to compensate for some inadequacy in another part of their lives.
My Dad did. It was a silver Chevy Astro, we called it the silver bullet. It also carried 5 party balls once with 4 of my other homies the night after the last day of high school junior year.
I used to hear that driving a bad ass muscle car was like adding 2 inches to your dick. Nowdays its a truck.
The women that are attracted to chromed monster trucks are not the droids I'm looking for. I never bought a vehicle for skirt bait anyway. But when I win the Powerball, I'm buying a goddamn Maserati.
I always thought it would be cool to have an extended cab El Camino but I never googled it until now.
I'll be searching for a Ferrari 550 Barchetta. It must be red. A Red Barchetta. I love Rush, you know.
I've managed to hold on to my passat through my third child. I can put the oldest (7) in the middle, the five year old in a booster, and the 1.5 year old in a car seat. But my car rarely has all three. I still like having the seven year old in the booster.
