Uhm, Orange?

Generally speaking, it’s usually a good idea to refrain from excessive teasing of one’s friends. I mean, a gentle jab, a hilarious diatribe of ranting and mockery, it all should be done in fun, not in a mean-spirited and hurtful way.

So, it gives me a great deal of pleasure to retaliate, when my friends, who have known my great emotional, physical, and financial strain from having hit a deer, not once, but twice in the last six months, still thought it hilarious to buy me the dullest piece of literature in the Americas, namely, James Fenimore Cooper’s The Deerslayer, as a birthday gift.

Thanks guys. Revenge is sweet, and you have given me the opportunity, nay, the GENEROUS GIFT ON A SILVER PLATTER of dropping by to show me your new car.

It is by far, the most hideous, heinous, comical-looking thing I’ve ever seen. The Keystone cops have nothing on this. Those Honda Elements remind me of people who have really long torsos and itty bitty short legs. The Element looks like somebody took a Hummer, and plopped it on a skateboard. That big ole boxy car requires some tires with testosterone, not those weenie little skate wheels.

So, I had to make nice and ooh and ahh over the car, even though it’s orange. I mean, tangerine. Great. A fruity name for a fruity car.

Alas, it does have some great features. First, it still has that new car smell. Mine smells like cleats. It’s brand new and shiny and clean. I’m afraid of what’s plastered on the back of my passenger seat. It’s very roomy inside—surprisingly roomy. My car isn’t built for the Johnson legs (it’s a good thing I’m not a Johnson, isn’t it?).

In short (I crack myself up—didn’t even mean the additional jab!), it’s not a bad little car. I hope the car wears out long before you weary of its color.

Drive safely; it’s the passengers that are important anyway.