Wednesday, March 9, 2011


It's become apparent to me that my beloved mother hates my car.

I drive a 2005 Buick that was one of my dad's little cream puffs from his used car biz.  (Motto: Wright Cars, Wright Prices, Jack Wright).  I've had it about eight months now and I love my car.  It's big and the radio works and the doors open with a remote control and I can fit at least five bodies in the trunk.  What's not to love?

Apparently, my mom can think of a lot of reasons.  "That car is too old for you!  It's too old for me.  It's too big and you need something younger and cooler."  When I told her I wouldn't trade it for any other car even if I won the lotto, she looked pained.  It really bothers her.  The other day when we were talking about it, she called me a mutton head.  I think that's an insult.

My mother is nuts, because I know my car is cool.  How do I know this?  After I got my Buick (which was a repo, if I'm going to be honest), I found this picture of its previous owners underneath the seat.

Now these ladies know how to have fun and they don't worry about driving a senior citizen's car.  I wait anxiously for my mother's apology.


  1. Apology? The old fart that drove that old buick probably told those young "ladies" he had just won the lottery!

  2. The true question is: What is its turning radius?

  3. Maybe those cool ladies bodies ended up in the trunk of that car, which I hear can easily hold 5 bodies at once.

  4. I <3 Anonymous. She/he is sassy.

  5. I LOVE that you found that picture. Totally hilar!!!