On a typical day, I drive this demure, little beauty.
She and I are alot alike. To begin with, she’s beautiful. Second, she’s humble. Third, she has airbags. Fourth, she has a six-disc CD changer.
Okay, so maybe we’re not twins, but we do have mutual love and admiration for each other, Lucy and I. Yes, I name my cars. Do NOT judge me. Our GPS’ name is Ethel (because she’s a nag…turn left, turn left, turn left…I HEARD YOU!), and Lucy and Ethel are, of course, the best of friends.
However, these days, Lucy’s a little bit broken down. Again, another way we are similar. She has some braking issues and, what with the way I drive and all, Big Daddy decided it’d be best to give her a break until he can get the part he needs to fix her up again.
I’m hoping he’ll order the part that’s necessary to fix me up again, too.
And deflate my airbags. They make my pants tight.
Meantime, BD’s carpooling to work and has turned his beast over to me. I’m going to reveal this monstrosity to you a little at a time, so that you will not be completely overwhelmed by its monster-ness.
Cue the theme from Rocky in your head now.
See! If I had hit you with that last one all at once, you’d have been scared, wouldn’t you? It’s okay. I understand. Sometimes being in charge of the beast scares me a little, too. I mean, I can barely see over the steering wheel, although, with the way I drive, it doesn’t really matter, I guess.
With Lucy, I’m accustomed to riding high, so the height of driving this vehicle does not bother me. What bothers me are two things: (1) the width of the truck (parking at the WalMart is extra fun), and (2) the Hemi.
That thang got a Hemi?
Why yes, yes it does.
Big Daddy’s sitting on the couch. I walk into the room and notice his extra-large smile.
Me: “What are you smiling about? Thinking about me?”
BD (shakes cobwebs from head): “What? Oh, yeah. Of course, honey. I love you.”
Me (rolling eyes): “No you weren’t. You were thinking about the Hemi, weren’t you.”
BD (knowing he’s caught): “Yeah, but I love you though.”
Me (walking away): “Whatever.”
Myself, I have trouble controlling the Hemi sometimes. Every so often, I step on the gas, and the Hemi takes off with me. The Diva, who may or may not currently need a neck brace, laughs hysterically.
Oh, and that commercial above? Yes, I beat an old lady away from the stoplight in the middle of town. She was driving a Tercel, but, still, I understood Hemi pride.
As a form of review, I’ve developed a Hemi pro/con list. At the end of the list, I’ve posted a synopsis of my thoughts. Because I know you care.
- Uh, the Hemi, duh.
- Feeling like I could take on a Mack truck.
- Beating old ladies away from stoplights in Podunk, Tennessee.
- The admiration I saw in a teen boy’s eyes as I exited the Hemi at Captain D’s the other day.
- Goes well with Taylor Swift (this from the Diva).
- The radio (a new Kenwood) cannot compare to Lucy’s out-of-the-factory system.
- I have to hike my leg up to get in it. Not a skirt-friendly vehicle. Good thing I have a ban on skirts.
- Parking at the Sonic
- The cupholders aren’t as good at Lucy’s.
- The vanity mirrors are less than quality (this from the Diva).
In summation: I’m considering getting my own Hemi with the radio I want, amped up vanity mirrors, and a pink, sparkly license plate (this from the Diva). The power’s gone directly to my head.
Stay off the roads,