Rebel Rescuer

**Monday Hot Tube Report – Nothing…zilch.  Kind of made me sad really.  But then I remembered that in this heat, its probably not safe for anyone to be engaging in Sin Glazing anyway.  ‘Nuff said.**

So by twisting and pleading, I’ve managed to convince the Matrix that I need to trade in Tighty Whitey, my speedy sweet, fully loaded, brought in from Vegas, leather for your hiney-car on a new one.  The criteria for said new vehicle (according to me) is that I can easily fit dog crates in it, it can’t have any predertermined “messages” about it, and it can’t be an SUV (or at least it can’t be a big one).

And of course, whenever you mention the topic of new cars, everyone has their opinion (including the Matrix, who’s opinion can be warped and changed according to how much I whine calmly present facts and research).  And most people would say that I should get an SUV, maybe something like a Jeep.  However, I’m about to reveal a little-known secret about myself.  I’m petrified of rolling a vehicle at high rates of speed.  Now, I would LOVE to have a Jeep to take into the hills in order to run over big hippies rocks, but we’re talking everyday auto.

Another big secret….I have a serious lead-foot, compounded with a chain-smoking problem, and the occasional desire to apply lip gloss while on the fly.  (But I don’t drink coffee while I’m driving…I’m not one of THOSE people).  So in other words, I need some serious safety and a serious ability to keep all four tires pointing downward.  My lead-foot issue has gotten me in trouble a couple of times (in neighboring states that is, here it’s called “professional courtesy”).  But as always, I’m running behind and trying to make up time in the most unsafe way possible.

So here is what I’ve been eyeballing.  Just enough cool mixed with some power, some room, and it simply screams “mobster” doesn’t it?!?!  It’s a far cry from Tighty Whitey, but the design is simply wonderful!  I think I need a moment….

Anyway, the Matrix (who has his own truck and therefore shouldn’t pick on me about cars) likes it OK.  Well, except for the fact that its American.  Now we’re the first ones to have our flag out on holidays, and the Matrix is known to wear flag-printed polo shirts while singing the National Anthem.  However, he’s not sure the American cars will hold up to my “driving style” the way the foreign guys will.  His thoughts?  Land Rover (not my style), Nissan (so-so), Audi (ever been over 5′ tall and sat in the backseat?) and a Volvo (hey Biff, wanna take a drive with Skip and Muffy to Connecticut to see the polo finals?).  Yeah, he’s obviously succombing to the bleach fumes.

So being the level-headed chick that I am, I told him that I understood.  Yeah, I understood that I’m going to have to do this while he’s out of town!!  Har har har!  Can’t return a new car, now can ya?!

But really, I hear what he’s saying and will probably continue to look.  Now Mom (who has no desire to look supercool, drive fast, etc) is a fan of this to which Nicko the Sicko and I guffaw like pneumonia-stricken crows.  I mean, Nicko and I spend a lot of time together.  Nicko actually asked my mom if it came with an optional rainbow sticker or if you had to have granola bars and hairy legs to drive it.  Of course Mom found this less than funny, and denied that it had lesbian undertones.  I’m sure its a very good car, but its just not for me, ya know?  Back to Nicko and I.  When you’re two chicks, 30 years old, and neither one of you are bleach-blondes or have fake tans (or boobs, or nails, or ass cheeks, or lips, or….), and you’re driving this car SOMEONE is gonna assume the worst and ask you to make a homevideo with leopard print sheets.  God forbid you be seen in it at Wild Oats in a long cotton skirt.

I mean, Nicko is a tomboy and well, so am I to a degree.  However, we’re both straight, and look straight (hellI put on makeup to mow the yard!).  But if someone were to see us cruising that ride, Nicko would NEVER find a date and would grow old and have to move in with us so I could change her diapers and wipe soup off her chin.  Not a pretty picture, is it?

So the great vehicle search continues on with little hope of producing just eh right car.  I would get this year’s version of Tighty Whitey if they hadn’t made the rear end look so damn constipated.  Tis fugly indeed.  Until I find that perfect vehicle though, I’ll still be known as the “white streak” around town in my trusty, speedy ride.  But the Matrix is going out of town soon….