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.