Monday, May 08, 2006

Irony and Vehicles

While driving home from yoga today the picture of irony was as clear as I've ever seen it. The animal control truck is traveling down the road slowly (no doubt looking for dogs and cats to collect and take to the pound), when a leashed puppy out for a walk drags its owner towards the road, eeking every inch out of the leash in an attempt to eat the tires of the truck. Oh the irony of it!

On another note: My favorite author, Christopher Moore, in his latest book, A Dirty Job, has created the most amazing description of any vehicle I've ever read. May I please quote Mr. Moore?

"The 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham was the perfect show-off of death machines. It consisted of nearly three tons of steel stamped into a massively mawed, high-tailed beast, lined with enough chrome to build a Terminator and still have parts left over - most of it in long, sharp strips that peeled off on impact and became lethal scythes to flay away pedestrian flesh. Under the four headlights it sported two chrome bumper bullets that looked like unexploded torpedoes or triple-G-cup Madonna death boobs. It had a noncollapsible steering column that would impale the driver upon any serious impact, electric windows that could pinch off a kid's head, no seat belts, and a 325 horsepower V8 with such appallingly bad fuel efficiency that you could hear it trying to slurp liquefied dinosaurs out of the ground when it passed. It had a top speed of a hundred and ten miles an hour, mushy, bargelike suspension that could in no way stabilize the car at that speed, and undersized power brakes that wouldn't stop it either. The fins jutting from the back were so high and sharp that the car was a lethal threat to pedestrians even when parked, and the whole package sat on tall, whitewall tires that looked, and generally handled, like over sized powdered doughnuts. Detroit couldn't have achieved more deadly finned ostentatia if they'd covered a killer whale in rhinestones. It was a masterpiece."

Man I love his writing. Makes me feel like I need the Detroit Death Cadillac.

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