it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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Ah, a bear in his natural environment. A Studebaker.

When I was in high school, I decided that my ideal car was a gray 1965 Saab with big hippie Shasta daisies handpainted on the doors and hood and trunk lid. I still don't have one, and suspect I never will.

However, courtesy of my father's smart shopping and some family friends, I am now the proud almost-owner, sight unseen, of a maroon 1982 Mercedes station wagon.

Diesel.

That's right baby. I am a George Carlin routine.

I won't actually get to see the car until I get out to North Carolina to pick it up, but I am amused to own a vehicle that's older than some of my friends.

It looks very much like this one, only maroon. Or very much like this one, only a station wagon. Yes, it is a very silly car, but my last vehicle was a fourteen-year-old Chevy S-10, so I'm immune to mockery.

Naming suggestions are, of course, welcome.



via Jeremy Tolbert, an inordinate fondness for beetles. (cpolk, look, look, lookie.) Ooo, shiiiny.

Sara Donati on book covers and marketing.
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