SILVER SPURS AND ASS CHAPS

 Sad news. After much soul searching I've decided to take the Neon off the road. The final straw was a trip down that cow path they call Majestic Road. It was Buddy Budde's birthday and the event could not be missed. Half way to the house I heard a "clunk", then a rumble, then a full force, from the depths of the throat, gobble. The muffler was gone. I limped in to find Buddy and Ed tending the garbage fire of cut-offs and brush, and poking fun at the old man with the hillbilly clunker wheels. I had to admit my jaw was a bit too slack, my yokel showing a bit too much. I shuffled to the fire, popped a cold one and thought maybe it was time.....
   Cars are like pets. You become attached to all their quirts and endearing rattles. As they get old and begin to crumble you do what you can, but there's a limit. It was getting to be a monthly ritual. $300 here, $600 there was becoming the norm.....just to keep it running. So today I unscrewed the JESUS HELPS ME TRICK PEOPLE sign and both plates and went to buy a car.
    Buying a car used to be fun. No more. These days you start with Craigslist. It's depressing. Everybody is selling their problems they bought before 9/11 and they want a lot of money for them. The last time I bought a car I paid $100 for the $15,000 2003 Neon and ended up paying about $30, 000 in finance charges. But the feeling of giving the guy a hundred dollar bill and driving off the lot in a brand new car was almost worth it. This time I've decided to go under $5000 and pay cash. The field is narrow. This class of car is ugly and practical- Toyotas, Focuses, Hondas. And all have 150,000 or more miles on 'em.
   Yesterday I went to a lot down in Coldenham recommended by Mupp. He won't come with me to check out cars, because he thinks I'll blame him if it breaks down. He painfully remembers many "lifetime guarantees" gone wrong. Hey, it was a verbal contract. I swear, your honor. Anyways, I'm on my own in Chevy, Ford, Toyota land, no help from bro. I told Mupp I'd have authenticated a Picasso if he was in the market. He wasn't buying.
   The salesman was a cheery Asian guy who steered me from one to another. They are all so fucking boring, I was about to give up when the smiling dude waves to a silver convertible. "Your neighbors will think you won the lottery if you show up in this one. It's a Chrysler Sebring. 95,000 miles. Very clean." This is the kind of car that makes absolutely no sense for me to own. I'll destroy it in a matter of months. If my mother was alive she would stroke the shiny fender and address the car directly. "I'm so sorry for you.....you poor thing......you have no idea where you are going to." But for some reason I can't take my eyes off it. "Can I take it for a ride?"

   Long story short. I couldn't help myself. I'm meeting with the TV people tomorrow. It's my first meeting to discus shooting a teaser for HWS. The supermodels will be riding in style.