Let us consider the Fates: they, which grant you a survivable misfortune of spotting a questionable vehicle in traffic by its incredulous mobility in the other direction, for which you’re thankful. Until you realize it was only a temporary reprieve, for They will give you visual apoplexy when you stumble upon it in a parking lot weeks later.
Of course, humanity spits at Fate and presses on; thus, although besmote by this abomination, I nonetheless hoisted myself upward and regained enough presence of mind to recall my cell cam. More happily, my photog antics were welcomed with the knowing, sympathetic smiles of several passers by. I took one for the team!
But I wax dramatic because the photos arguably show there’s little to say when the Devil Grimace is in the details. Ah, painted-over remnant badge adhesive! Be still, Pep-boys Fireball! Hello, glue-on hood scoop! Slay me, oh dice-tipped curb-feelers on one side! Indeed, this transcends the mere Ill-Advised Act of Boredom (TM) into a true a work of interpretive art. Yes, art. Because somewhere, someone harfed up a steaming puddle of Grape Shasta and was inspired to paint a horrid front-drive Buick in memoriam. Inspiration takes many forms.
Honestly, on any other day I’d be grateful for the downright miraculous lack of Donks (I guess Shasta withdrew their sponsorship after the harfing incident). Crap, now I just tempted fate by typing that. What can I say? “Oh Fates, the Buick’s in your lot – be glad I wasn’t shopping for various flammables and accelerants“?
Yeah, that might work. Now please forgive and excuse me as I go spit out my Orange Crush and shop for a Mercury Topaz. Wasn’t there an orange FryGuy? Shoot, this car warped my mind so badly I can’t pick a meme to attach it to…