Avant garde, no?

Let's get a few things straight first.

Number A. I am a man.

That is to say, I have a penis which appreciates the gentle touch of a woman, and one time, some fruit.

Number B. Conversely, I am also a "cool guy."

That is to say, while I have a beret and know how to wear it, I also have camoflague pants and combat boots, and could probably put anyone likely to snicker at the aforementioned headdress through a plate glass window.

This leaves me in a tricky spot when it comes to the internal combustion engine - automobiles - you know, fucking CARS.

Part of me is like: Cars are cool. Smell that exhaust. That's some good exhaust right there. Mmmmmmmm...

But the HIP (read: gay) part of me is like: I don't think so, girlfriend. Being enthusiastic about anything is dabbling in not coolness, and being enthusiastic about CARS is throwing yourself into non-coolativity headfirst.

See, I'm a very complex individual. With layers that can be peeled back like an onion.

I am an onion man.

Anyway, the point is, cars are awesome.

1. You can drive places. For example, I can drive to work. I can drive to a party. I can drive to a funeral. If I worked at, like, a funeral home, I could drive to work and drive to a funeral at the same time.

If I worked at an especially liberal funeral home, I could do all three. It'd be a fun time.

2. You can pull off flawless escapes.

Whether you're getting away from an elaborate bank heist, or just somebody you don't want following you to the next party, a car is a great way to, well, get away.

I must admit, I'm a little concerned about the fact that my steering wheel shudders whenever I brake though. One too many hairpin turns, perhaps.

3. You can pick up hitchhikers.

Sure, you can do this even without a car, but it's a lot less arduous when you have some sort of vehicle.

I picked up a hitchhiker the other day...

I had a few hours to kill on Saturday, so I was pulled over on the side of the road, just outside of Morwell, reading the Weekend Australian.

Anyway, next thing I know, there's this guy tapping on the window.

Hey mate, he says to me, are you going to Churchill?

I wasn't, but hey, why the fuck not.

Churchill is a vibrant metropolis with a lot to offer. It has a big cigar.

Anyway, this guy's car was broken down, so he'd gotten the bus from Sale (where he picked asparagus) to Traralgon, then caught a lift with some junkie to Morwell, or something. I can't remember.

The point is, you can get killed by a crazy person with a blunt axe called John or maybe it's Jim I sense that the name definitely starts with a J or a T do you know any Tim's? while you're hitch-hiking.

But if you have a working car, you won't have to hitch-hike at all, so make sure you keep your car well-maintained.

Because cars are awesome, but so is not having some kid find your head floating in a creek.

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