Steering Wheels Are For The Weak

Steering Wheels Are For The Weak

Cars are tricky things. I’ve driven them from time to time. I find that they’re ornery beasts that cannot be trusted. If I ever see a car, I try to walk the other way and avoid it entirely. They don’t have it in for me or anything, they simply spook me. I haven’t been in any car crashes or had any traumatic experiences with cars that I can remember. I just have an inherent distrust for all types of automobiles. I think it all stems from the one time I tried to purchase a car.

Before I completely let go of the idea of owning a personal vehicle, I went shopping around for cars. I looked at all the Japanese cars, but there weren’t enough tentacles to make them stand out. They were boring ole cars and that was about it. I let them be and moved on to an American car dealership to see what they had. I was offered a muscle car, but I’m not particularly insecure about myself, so I gave them a pass. I wanted to be sensible anyways. I took a look at the SUVs, but they all looked like glorified matchbox cars. They all seemed to have had their hard edges rounded over so you wouldn’t hurt yourself getting into the car.

Instead of completely abandoning the idea of getting a car, I went over to the BMW dealership next door. At this point I was about ready to give up on finding a car. The real reason I went over to the BMW dealership was because I knew they’d have a nicer bathroom than the Dodge showroom. On my way to the bathroom I passed by a rather nice little roadster in the center of the showroom. Not too small, good design, nice leather interior, decent exterior — Not too bad. I probably should have continued to the bathroom, but that little car intrigued me. I can take a dump later, I wanted to look at that car right away.

I circled the car for a few minutes, looking for any weak spots, but I couldn’t find anything particularly wrong with it. I looked under it and had four wheels, an engine, and everything. I was very impressed to say the least. I finally decided to take a seat inside and see what that leather interior felt like on my toasty buns. As I touched the door handle, I let out a fart that echoed through the ages. It was loud, proud, and deeply satisfying. There wasn’t anyone in the showroom that I knew, so I wasn’t too worried. That is, until I heard a voice from behind ask if I wanted to take it for a test drive.

I was a bit embarrassed, but I was pretty sure that he didn’t notice. I asked if he could tell me the price before I got too attached to it, and he replied:

“Buddy, if just touching it made you fart, you’re gonna crap yourself when I tell you the price.”

(Many thanks to our good friend Charles Schneider for sending this video our way)

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