After three weeks of playing phone tag with banks, lien holders, insurance companies, and lawyers (Oh my?)…we finally seem to own a car. It is an ultra-sexy, ultra-hot car with a cool factor rating that makes Einstein’s IQ look like a shoe size.
Here you go.
|Is it a car or an aphrodisiac?|
It’s a 2003 Buick LeSabre Limited. It has bells and whistles that I thought only existed on devices in Willy Wonka movies. For example the mirrors automatically adjust when you put it in reverse so you can “better see obstacles in the rear,” according to the manual. Plus it has seat heaters, an LCD compass, auto darkening rear view mirror…jacuzzi, porta-potty, and it comes with a full time soda jerk replete with one of those funny paper hats.
|Actual view of LeSabre’s back seat.|
Check out these photos of the dash if the dazzling sexiness of the exterior already hasn’t blinded you to all other awesomeness.
I’m trying to trick you. Only one of the two pics above is actually from my car. Can you guess which? That’s right. It’s the much cooler bottom one. The top one would have looked almost as good as the Buick dash if it had come with some awesome plasticky looking faux wood grain like the dash on the LeSabrator.
But wait…what’s that? You want to know is that really a cassette tape deck in the middle of that dash?
Fucking ay right it is.
Why do I have a cassette tape deck, you ask?
Cause I couldn’t find a LeSabre that would play eight track tapes, bitches.
We started out looking for something that was fuel efficient and cute like the little Focus was. We looked for a Pontiac Vibe, a Toyota Matrix, a Dodge Caliber, a Malibu Maxx, and a P.T. Cruiser. What do all those have in common aside from the fact that they all sound like names you would find in the credits of a gay porn film? They all have shitty reliability ratings, four cylinder engines, don’t get that great a gas mileage despite having an engine with barely enough power to juice a squirrel, and it is near impossible to find one with a manual transmission.
I’ve had quite enough of the shitty reliability thing thanks to the old Ford Focus which is why we drowned it in the first place. I can handle the four cylinder engine thing…IF it is a stick shift. Those teeny cars we initially looked at are also so light that winter driving requires great care and when you make it worse by taking away the engine braking capacity of a stick shift and put an automatic tranny in it…then I think they are downright dangerous.
So we had to change tactics during the great car hunt. We decided to spend about 33% less money and buy a car we knew would be a little better in the winter. So, in walks the big bad Buick beauty. Every inch of it screams, “Drive me! (carefully). Every line of it screams, “Exxxcitement!” (If you would consider a refrigerator box exciting.) It handles like a dream! (If you have ever dreamed of driving a refrigerator box.) Everything from the seating position to to the sorta-leather seats screams SEX ON ME! (Copyright pending on the term “sorta-leather.”)
|These seats …are an orgy launching pad just waiting for clearance from Phallus Central.|
It will fit an entire fraternity party in the trunk, and the soda fountain in the back will seat the population of your average Honduran family. The car is big, American, strong, and everything I always wanted in a vehicle minus the disco ball. I’m thinking of putting a pair of truck nutz on it, too because…I mean, why wouldn’t I?
|Truck nutz…Bush/Cheney bumper sticker. Somehow that doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me.|
Actually, the Buick was in our price range, has some of the most outstanding safety and reliability ratings of anything I researched, is the color of oatmeal and just about as spicy, too. It does get as good or better mileage than some of those little four cylinder toy cars I mentioned before. Side curtain air bags are a plus, but still not really the first thing the opposite sex notices about one’s ride typically. Plus it’s so big and overblown it should be heavy enough for winter driving.
The sorta-leather seats are also easy for the soda jerk to clean up when he spills.