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Friday, August 19, 2016

~ The Curious Case of Cocks & Cars

I'm helping my bestie, AnonD with their (Mr. AnonD) new house rehab and moving.  By 'helping' I mean doing absolutely nothing.  In the literal, not figurative sense.  (I wanted to help with the fire place painting.  I can paint.  I was already sitting on a stool.  I felt very confident that I could whosh-wosh for a while and be helpful.  I was wrong.  The kibosh was put down on that plan before I could really even completely float the idea out loud*.)

What's actually transpiring is that she's doing things, and I'm shadowing her with a tumbler of ice water and said stool.  Essentially I'm the Official Gabber In Chief of the project.

In the name of progress we headed over to the storage unit temporarily housing some odd's 'n ins.  I'm checkin' out the new 'hood I'll need to be familiar with once they get settled, takin' in the sights, noticing the weird (we passed a blue house, which had blue curtains. Or as it is now known, 'the blueberry house').  I'm riding shotgun, head on a swivel when I spy an ol' school Toyota MR2.  The sighting prompts me to go a diggin' in my pocket for my phone.  I ask AnonD if anyone is behind us 'cause I wanna snap something.  There's not.  I do.  And I'm like, 'maaaaaaan, it's 2016.  Ya don't see an MR2 everyday!'   Like, I had just spied a centaur made of a unicorn intermittently shitting cotton candy and peeing cherry Slurpee standing by a rainbow motioning me over.  Like, I was giddy, y'all.

(Toyota MR2 Info Ya Probably Don't Care About.)

AnonD's response?  Obviously, mocking laughter, and the querry,
"How do you not have a dick?"  

(Fact:  I do not have a dick.  But it's often been said I've got balls.)

Now, I'm not a gearhead as such.  My practical knowledge about cars ends with powering out of curves turning the key and filling the tank.  I used to love watching Top Gear.  (The v.BBC used to be my fave.  This year TG 'Merica won out.  [we'll try again next season, Matt LeBlanc])  Plus I've been to two car shows (one oldies, and one all Italian vehicles) and once to the annual BBGVille Auto Show.  Not exactly the resume of someone likely to be made so giddy by seein' a particular set of four wheels that they're compelled to take a picture. 

The thing she doesn't know is that the MR-2 was only the latest set of wheels to grab my attention. 


When I was a wee lass my Dad had an orange MG.  'Had'.  ...Until I was about six and fully outgrew the option of occupying the 'back seat'.  (Sorry, Dad.)  So last week it was this that I found picture worthy:   







Sometimes the subject is obvious. 

Sometimes it's not.

Exhibit A:




If, 'sweet ass Tesla' is what you're thinking you're missing the true gem of the picture.  I see a Tesla 'round these parts almost every day.  But look behind the Tesla, stopped at the light, across the street, second lane over.  That?  That's an El Camino in all its early days of cross breeding cars glory.





I'm a real sucker for the hard to find playing (trading?  [someone with a dick would probably know that]) cards like this Datsun 280z(ed, for BBGW UK-ish readers) not easily found since 1996 when they stopped rolling off the line.











And this ol' Dodge Omni (or Plymouth Horizon) which wrapped up production in 1990.














...Honestly?  What the fuck else am I to do when I see a ladybugmobile?  (cllllllliiiiick)
















Or the other car in question is busy taking pictures of me




Or when you suspect an Uma is stalking you at Target?











(It's my own vehicle-y version of PokemonGo-ing.)  Things deemed unworthy?  The Rolls from Friday, the Bentley I was behind at a light yesterday and the Lambo I eyeballed last week a block from BBG HQ.  But I sure as shit captured the misfit toy(ota) I spied (sans a back window, in a downpour).  Priorities.



So, yeah, I have a secret, it's not a cock.  Shhhhhhhh.  It's a secret car capturing compulsion.






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(* I am deeply appreciative of how cognizant AnonD is
of keeping me alive, and using better sense than I can always manage to exercise on my own.) 


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