The Wryde
We now interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you a special behind-the-scenes featurette. In today's episode: the wheels that make Wry's escapades possible: the Wryde!
I have a painfully uncool vehicle.
Seriously. If coolness were circular like longitude, my ride would be so uncool it would be cool. But since that's not the case, it's just so uncool.
This vehicle is so socially deadly, I've kinda been wondering for the past few weeks if I wouldn't be better off driving a hearse or something. (Hey, at least that would be unique...)
So how is it uncool? Well, let me count the ways...
It's an old vehicle. It's a 1997 model. It has over 200,000 miles on it, and it's acquired a slight smell. The kindest possible way to describe this particular smell would be "unique," I think. No matter how much I clean it, it won't go away. And it gets worse when it gets hot and sunny.
Ah, yes, hot and sunny. Of course, with my luck and the Tennessee weather, it's a given that the air conditioner only works when it's already cool outside, which means I'm pretty much limited to planning dates that start pretty near sunset, or The Girl meets The Smell.
As far as datemobiles go, the only thing worse than this would be a dump truck. It's the very antithesis of sportiness and coziness. It's got captains' chairs! And they're so far apart, you could park a Mazda Miata between them!
This monstrosity goes 0 to 60 in 15 seconds, and that's when the transmission is in a good mood. It brakes like a cruise ship and corners like a freight train. And it's lucky to get 20 miles to the gallon.
Last week, one kindhearted member of my school's female population was sitting in the passenger seat, trying to think of something nice to say about my vehicle, and she was really grasping at straws. She said, and I swear I'm not making this up, "you're all ready to start a family. You're driving a 'mom' car!"
After I dropped her off that night, I fantasized about driving my "mom" car off a cliff.
I, Wry, drive a 1997 Dodge Grand Caravan.
I have a painfully uncool vehicle.
Seriously. If coolness were circular like longitude, my ride would be so uncool it would be cool. But since that's not the case, it's just so uncool.
This vehicle is so socially deadly, I've kinda been wondering for the past few weeks if I wouldn't be better off driving a hearse or something. (Hey, at least that would be unique...)
So how is it uncool? Well, let me count the ways...
It's an old vehicle. It's a 1997 model. It has over 200,000 miles on it, and it's acquired a slight smell. The kindest possible way to describe this particular smell would be "unique," I think. No matter how much I clean it, it won't go away. And it gets worse when it gets hot and sunny.
Ah, yes, hot and sunny. Of course, with my luck and the Tennessee weather, it's a given that the air conditioner only works when it's already cool outside, which means I'm pretty much limited to planning dates that start pretty near sunset, or The Girl meets The Smell.
As far as datemobiles go, the only thing worse than this would be a dump truck. It's the very antithesis of sportiness and coziness. It's got captains' chairs! And they're so far apart, you could park a Mazda Miata between them!
This monstrosity goes 0 to 60 in 15 seconds, and that's when the transmission is in a good mood. It brakes like a cruise ship and corners like a freight train. And it's lucky to get 20 miles to the gallon.
Last week, one kindhearted member of my school's female population was sitting in the passenger seat, trying to think of something nice to say about my vehicle, and she was really grasping at straws. She said, and I swear I'm not making this up, "you're all ready to start a family. You're driving a 'mom' car!"
After I dropped her off that night, I fantasized about driving my "mom" car off a cliff.
I, Wry, drive a 1997 Dodge Grand Caravan.
posted by Life on Wry at 1:02 PM
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