Fat Guy in a Lime Green Mini
Here is another post from the archives of my old life in Detroit.
Despite its many shortfalls, the metropolitan Detroit area is still the automobile capital of the universe. No one walks here, it's some kind of unwritten law - thou shall not walk. Ever. We all bask in our obesity while sipping some high calorie coffee concoction and discussing the next low carbohydrate diet craze while driving to Costco to purchase institutional-size boxes of cereal and packages of irradiated lettuce that will not rot for weeks. A friend, who is a Costco aficionado, gave me a head of romaine lettuce that remained inexplicably green in my fridge for almost two months.
In just about any social circle in Metro Detroit, there is bound to be at least a handful of people who are employed in some car related field. I imagine it's like LA, where everybody is working on a movie, with the exception that our movies are glove box videos and the work comprises of far less schmoozing and a whole lot more doing, no offence to those who keep the rest of us wishing we were someone else, giving us just enough to keep us afloat.
Detroit is gritty, dirty and, as the show biz people would say, "a has been." People drive there, and then they quickly drive away. Not me. I go there for no reason and I linger around. There is an immense amount of beauty in a city that once was the Paris of the west, but now it's more like Beirut than Paris.
On my way downtown today, I was being tailgated by a very large man - Captain Incredible large - lodged in a lime green mini. Saying he was merely riding would not accurately convey the scene. The man was basically squeezed into this tiny car, driving erratically down I-94. It took me a while to realize that the steering wheel in his car was on the right side, because his body mass pretty much occupied the width of the car.
Normally I wouldn't do this, but I slowed down to get a better look. In fact, I pulled out my camera and took a picture. Driving such a small car, make that a small old car, is almost like heresy in this gas-guzzling, SUV -oving metropolis. People here buy the largest vehicle available, regardless of their need for things like towing capacity, cargo space or the ability to climb the Great Wall of China. Most people driving these mega machines are men in suits and women with children, neither of which will have any immediate need for a power wench or to tow a nuclear submarine. That's why they make SUVs with leather interiors and heated seats, which is precisely what you will need on your next safari adventure to Costco.
I have a profound hatred for those driving the extra large cars for no reason. I can understand if you need a huge van because you make countertops for a living, or if you work in an adult care facility, and need it to take the patients to their weekly visit to Kmart. I don't mind that at all, especially since I don't shop at Kmart. By all means have at it.
What does severely piss me off are those men (and they usually are men) who drive a Hummer. The first thought that pops into my mind is that the poor sap must have a small penis. That, and the fact that said vehicle monstrosity is called a Hummer, is almost funny enough to make me forget that I want that person to hit the first available utility pole with that ridiculous automobile.
While the occasional Corvette can be seen on our roads, in the brief few weeks that comprise the Michigan summer, seeing an old small car have at it with our suburban attack vehicles is rather unusual. Made me think of that Budweiser commercial, in which they salute people such as Mr. Pickled Pig's Feet eater. For whatever reason, if size does matter, I'm sure the fat guy in the lime green mini had a huge penis.
Despite its many shortfalls, the metropolitan Detroit area is still the automobile capital of the universe. No one walks here, it's some kind of unwritten law - thou shall not walk. Ever. We all bask in our obesity while sipping some high calorie coffee concoction and discussing the next low carbohydrate diet craze while driving to Costco to purchase institutional-size boxes of cereal and packages of irradiated lettuce that will not rot for weeks. A friend, who is a Costco aficionado, gave me a head of romaine lettuce that remained inexplicably green in my fridge for almost two months.
In just about any social circle in Metro Detroit, there is bound to be at least a handful of people who are employed in some car related field. I imagine it's like LA, where everybody is working on a movie, with the exception that our movies are glove box videos and the work comprises of far less schmoozing and a whole lot more doing, no offence to those who keep the rest of us wishing we were someone else, giving us just enough to keep us afloat.
Detroit is gritty, dirty and, as the show biz people would say, "a has been." People drive there, and then they quickly drive away. Not me. I go there for no reason and I linger around. There is an immense amount of beauty in a city that once was the Paris of the west, but now it's more like Beirut than Paris.
On my way downtown today, I was being tailgated by a very large man - Captain Incredible large - lodged in a lime green mini. Saying he was merely riding would not accurately convey the scene. The man was basically squeezed into this tiny car, driving erratically down I-94. It took me a while to realize that the steering wheel in his car was on the right side, because his body mass pretty much occupied the width of the car.
Normally I wouldn't do this, but I slowed down to get a better look. In fact, I pulled out my camera and took a picture. Driving such a small car, make that a small old car, is almost like heresy in this gas-guzzling, SUV -oving metropolis. People here buy the largest vehicle available, regardless of their need for things like towing capacity, cargo space or the ability to climb the Great Wall of China. Most people driving these mega machines are men in suits and women with children, neither of which will have any immediate need for a power wench or to tow a nuclear submarine. That's why they make SUVs with leather interiors and heated seats, which is precisely what you will need on your next safari adventure to Costco.
I have a profound hatred for those driving the extra large cars for no reason. I can understand if you need a huge van because you make countertops for a living, or if you work in an adult care facility, and need it to take the patients to their weekly visit to Kmart. I don't mind that at all, especially since I don't shop at Kmart. By all means have at it.
What does severely piss me off are those men (and they usually are men) who drive a Hummer. The first thought that pops into my mind is that the poor sap must have a small penis. That, and the fact that said vehicle monstrosity is called a Hummer, is almost funny enough to make me forget that I want that person to hit the first available utility pole with that ridiculous automobile.
While the occasional Corvette can be seen on our roads, in the brief few weeks that comprise the Michigan summer, seeing an old small car have at it with our suburban attack vehicles is rather unusual. Made me think of that Budweiser commercial, in which they salute people such as Mr. Pickled Pig's Feet eater. For whatever reason, if size does matter, I'm sure the fat guy in the lime green mini had a huge penis.
Labels: whatever
posted by Fe at 7:40 PM
<< Home