El Toronado!

Over the last few months, I've been increasingly interested in living a car-free life. Don't get me wrong, I love cars. I love cars with every fiber of my being. My preference is very large cars. Cars most typically driven by old ladies, cops, and drug dealers. (Strange those three groups have similar taste in automobiles, no?) Do not get me started on Grand Marquis. Or the CVPI I drove a few months ago. (That I did not buy that car is one of my life's great regrets -- omahgawd, that baybuh could moooove.) Sure, anyone could drive a big black SUV (and if you want to buy me a Yukon Denali, do not be shy about it), but I like those sort of battle axe type of cars, you know? One of my first cars was a 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. 'Twas cherry. And it flew. And it had whitewall tires. Oh, how I loved that steel beast so.

And yet, a part of my brain in recent years has developed a fondness for unloading. For the letting-go-ing. For the why-the-fuck-do-I-need-all-this-stuff-anyway-ness of it all. My current mobile is muy grande. And it keeps needing things that require money. Like repairs. And gas. And insurance. And sometimes I fantasize about just walking up to someone, and throwing the keys at them, and being like, "Here, fucking take this shit." Yet, I haven't. Yet.

There is really nothing like palming the wheel as you fly around the corner in a vehicle that sails down the street like a 5,000-pound land yacht. So, one day, I do hope to unload my car. Hopefully, something better will come along to replace it. In the meantime, let's enjoy this 1967 Oldsmobile 70-X Toronado customized by George Barris himself. It's only $187,770. If there's any place I know I could finish my novel, it's in that rear seat lounge with a writing desk.

Cars

Today, my car died. I don't know what's wrong with it, but by the time it breathed its last breath in the middle of the street, it was making the kind of noises that you never, ever want a car to make. It may well be that this story does not have a happy ending. I thought I was in the clear, it being nearly the end of the year. Apparently not.



I like this car. I wonder if the world turns animated when you drive it? Anything is possible with Queens of the Stone Age, really. Sadly, Josh Homme not included.



Purely out of coincidence -- or, perhaps, prescience? -- I was reading about the Maybach Zeppelin yesterday. I could probably do without that aroma-humidifier thing, though. Maybe Santa will spring for the $500K? Maybe not.



Check out Joan Didion and her little yellow Corvette. Driving around LA. Cruising towards Babylon. She's. So. Cool.



The main character in my novel drives a black 1966 Oldsmobile Toronado. The first front-wheel drive made for the common man, people! It's a hell of a car. 5,000 pounds of grade-A American steel. "Toronado really handles great!" says Bobby Unser. Those retractable headlights are nothin' but sexy. I used to own a 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. That was a hell of a car.



Probably my all-time favorite car is the Lamborghini Reventón Roadster. It's just so fly. Am I the chosen one? I suppose that remains to be seen.