Today's younger drivers have had their brains turned into tomato paste by music that sounds like musicians beating their amplifiers to death with a bass guitar. There is no melody and no lyrics to it. It's just two bass notes played over and over at two hundred decibels. The sound makes the car swell and retract like a bullfrog in heat. It has affected their brains to the point they wear their hats crooked and their pants down around their gas pedal. They can't hear a thing. I can see why texting has become popular. The windows have been covered with roofing tar and I assume they have radar. The sound system and the rims are worth about three times what they paid for cars that sound like Fivel farts, but I have addressed this in a previous article.
I think my car needs some work. Consider a scenario where my son and I go to the grocery store in separate cars and we leave at the same time. My son arrives at the grocery store while I'm pulling out of our driveway. This is because I have a car that is so under-powered that when I push down on the accelerator the car won't move for fifteen minutes. My son, driving at the speed of sound, reaches the store in seconds.
My attitude about me working on a car is, it saves some money and will possibly maim me for life. The extent of my mechanical ability ends at getting the gas cap off, if I can find it, which I can't on the Honda.
Switching between my truck and my wife's Honda is confusing. The Honda has an automatic transmission and my truck is a five speed. In the Honda I often slam my foot down on a non-existent clutch while I wave my arm around trying to find the gear shift. I can never find the %$#*&(#@) door handle, the window buttons, gear shift, windshield wipers or the trunk latch in the Honda. I think they may all be under the seat. God help me if I need to turn on the head lights. If I'm out of town I normally stop at a McDonald's for something to eat. When I pull up to order in my wife's car, I can't find the window buttons so I have to get out of the car and talk to a life sized plastic McBurgler to place my order. I have to get out of the car again at the pick up window.
The Honda has lots of little indecipherable symbols that are supposed to indicate what the functions are for all the buttons. For all I know they might fire a missile or lay down an oil slick. They may as well be in Japanese. There are some engineers in Japan laughing their butts off. I'll bet I could easily understand the symbols on the cars in Japan. I think they are still mad about WWII.
This is way more than I had planned on writing, but I feel better about going back on the road. Self justification and ranting are underrated. I still don't understand why people drive worse and cuss more.
I will try to organize my thoughts later. I think I'll go for a drive to clear my head. Time to crank it up. Dang it! Who put this thing in Reverse? Check engine light? What the bejeepers does check engine mean?
* * * HAPPY MOTORING *
The Radio's playing some forgotten song
Brenda Lee's coming on strong
The newsman sang his same song
One more radar lover gone
Golden Earring: See daft lass, 70's is all I listen to. I may be old but I'm not using Viagra yet.