The man who came to San Francisco to rape each and every citizen? WTF? This is some great advertising but would only be legal today if it were a political ad.
That is pretty awesome – take an honest look at what people will not like and then make fun of yourself to showcase your honesty. You know, if he wasn’t such a slick talker, I might’ve bought a car from him myself if I was around back then!
We had a 1966 Ford Country Squire. I thought I dreamed it. It seated 15, and was Hell on wheels. Literally. Why design a black interior, with black nylon-weave bench seating? We still have the burn scars on our legs.
We took this one on two trips through the Western states, down to Mexico and back, including Anaheim and Disneyland during two summers in the early 70’s. No air conditioning.
It must be true. I thought the flashbacks were from “NL’s Vacation” outtakes. But it’s all true. OMG.
We had a banana yellow Chevrolet Impala station wagon with a souped up motor (my dad used it to pull his fishing boat).
When it got old and crappy, my mom used it, but mostly it was mine. We put all the back seats down so everything was a slick, hard surface, and I’d tool around with six of seven people in the back drinking beer. It was a sodden mess, and it was fun as hell.
When it hit 200,000 miles, it started running very rough. A mechanic plugged some diagnostic shit into it, told us it was an 8 cylinder car running on 5 1/2 cylinders, and to just trash it. My dad and I investigated further and discovered that the spark plug cables were fucked, with 2 of them sheared off, and another half gone. We replaced them and I found I could still crack 100 when some uber-douche in a sports car challenged me at a stop light to impress his girlfriend. She was probably not impressed when I surprised the living fuck out of him and blew him off the line.
Years later, my mom traded it in for a new car and I accepted that my good friend was gone for good. But that car had one more surprise in store for me. We got a call from the Naperville police department to tell us that our car had been towed and we needed to pick it up at the impound lot. Once we’d straightened out the paperwork that led them to believe that we still owned it, I discussed it with the police over the phone.
“I thought for sure that car was going to be scrapped” I said.
“I’m sure it was. Kids will break into the scrap yard with a can of gas and see if they can get a car running. They do that because if they steal a car from there, it’s petty theft, and not grand theft auto.”
I was glad that car had one more thrill left in it. It seemed right.
“Listen to me, because I don’t lie. If you want to get fucked, and I mean fucked hard, go right ahead and take a sip off of this drink that I just dropped something into.”
I’d buy a car from him 😀
The man who came to San Francisco to rape each and every citizen? WTF? This is some great advertising but would only be legal today if it were a political ad.
I’m Ross Perot, and I approve this message.
That is pretty awesome – take an honest look at what people will not like and then make fun of yourself to showcase your honesty. You know, if he wasn’t such a slick talker, I might’ve bought a car from him myself if I was around back then!
I’d probably sit down and guzzle scotch with him, but i don’t think I’d buy a car.
We had a 1966 Ford Country Squire. I thought I dreamed it. It seated 15, and was Hell on wheels. Literally. Why design a black interior, with black nylon-weave bench seating? We still have the burn scars on our legs.
We took this one on two trips through the Western states, down to Mexico and back, including Anaheim and Disneyland during two summers in the early 70’s. No air conditioning.
It must be true. I thought the flashbacks were from “NL’s Vacation” outtakes. But it’s all true. OMG.
We had a banana yellow Chevrolet Impala station wagon with a souped up motor (my dad used it to pull his fishing boat).
When it got old and crappy, my mom used it, but mostly it was mine. We put all the back seats down so everything was a slick, hard surface, and I’d tool around with six of seven people in the back drinking beer. It was a sodden mess, and it was fun as hell.
When it hit 200,000 miles, it started running very rough. A mechanic plugged some diagnostic shit into it, told us it was an 8 cylinder car running on 5 1/2 cylinders, and to just trash it. My dad and I investigated further and discovered that the spark plug cables were fucked, with 2 of them sheared off, and another half gone. We replaced them and I found I could still crack 100 when some uber-douche in a sports car challenged me at a stop light to impress his girlfriend. She was probably not impressed when I surprised the living fuck out of him and blew him off the line.
Years later, my mom traded it in for a new car and I accepted that my good friend was gone for good. But that car had one more surprise in store for me. We got a call from the Naperville police department to tell us that our car had been towed and we needed to pick it up at the impound lot. Once we’d straightened out the paperwork that led them to believe that we still owned it, I discussed it with the police over the phone.
“I thought for sure that car was going to be scrapped” I said.
“I’m sure it was. Kids will break into the scrap yard with a can of gas and see if they can get a car running. They do that because if they steal a car from there, it’s petty theft, and not grand theft auto.”
I was glad that car had one more thrill left in it. It seemed right.
I actually want to buy a new car since gas is $11.50 a gallon or something out here. This guy will do!
Well, the price is right. Look at how much that car costs: $1,866!
He might be fun to go out on the town with. I’d love to see how he tries to pick up girls.
“Listen to me, because I don’t lie. If you want to get fucked, and I mean fucked hard, go right ahead and take a sip off of this drink that I just dropped something into.”
This guy seems legit
I know! He even threw in free service to rotate the windows!