Bit the Dust

Today is a very sad day at our house.  Jody's beloved Crown Victoria has bitten the dust. Let me clarify.  Jody is sad.  I am ecstatic.  Thrilled.  Over the moon.  Giddy.  He really loves the car, but I really, really hate it.  With a passion.  I hate that car with a passion.

Why I Hate the Crown Vic:

1.  It's ugly.

2.  The driver's seat doesn't slide forward.  So if I ever have to drive it, I have to lean back, stretching my right leg as far as I can to reach the pedal.   Straight up gangsta style.

3.  The windshield is cracked.  And it's not even the cosmetic idea of a cracked windshield that bothers me.  The crack just happens to run across the windshield at exactly my eye level.  The result?  A very distorted view.  Like the road is split in two and the result is a wavy, headache-inducing mess.  And since I'm all stretched out gangsta style in order to reach the pedals, I can't sit up any higher to look over the crack.

4.  It's ugly.

5.  It squeaks.  Like a mattress at a cheap motel.  The hydraulics bit the dust a long time ago.  So now every time you accelerate, hit the breaks or hit the slightest bump, the car begins to sing.  It's only slightly embarrassing.

Why He Loves It:

1.  He swears it keeps him from getting speeding tickets.  Yes, honey, only cops drive Crown Vics.  No senior citizens.  All those Crown Vics parked in the handicapped spots are obviously being driven by injured police officers.

2.  The trunk is bigger than our living room.  It can hold a twelve feed buckets, hunting gear, golf clubs and bags of fencing supplies.  And that just takes up 25% of the trunk space.

3.  It gets great gas mileage.  Yes, this is a great thing.  When your car squeaks so loud others stop pumping gas to cover their ears, the fewer stops at the gas station the better.

4.  He really thinks it looks great.  Really.  

5.  It enables him to keep his employees in line.  He loves speeding into the steel yard and screeching to a stop as the rear end fishtails.  Like a police officer.  A police officer on a huge crime bust.  A police officer driving a Crown Vic with no hydraulics and a Five J's Cattle Company license tag on the front..

And,  yes, I was so happy the Crown Vic died, I picked up an old funeral wreath from the florist to mark it's passing.  

Jody was not amused.

I also asked him if he believes in karma.

"Why?" you ask.

 I explained, "Torment your wife for days with a toy rattlesnake and your beloved car's engine blows up the next time you try to crank it."

Karma defined.