There is a time warp ahead of me in traffic.
I am driving to work, and there is a van directly in front of me that simply appeared from about 1978.
Its a 70’s era Dodge van, short one, with a snub nose.
All the doors open out as sliding doors had not been invented yet.
The biggest tip off that the van got here thru some sort of time machine is the myriad of bumper stickers on the back.
Not just on the bumper, but the doors, and several on the back windows.
The most colorful of the bumper stickers:
- Gas, grass or ass. Nobody rides for free. (Kind of like the players creed from the disco era.)
- If this van’s a rockin, don’t come a knockin’. (What unholy slut would give it up for that line?)
- A cartoon character with one leg stretched waaaaaay out. KEEP ON TRUCKIN’ (The Grateful Dead are a damned cult!)
- I found it, and now my finger stinks. (Hands down, the funniest thing to come out of the 70’s.)
Those are the most recognizable ones. They are kind of the standards that we all saw during that era.
And then there were a few from the 70’s that still make no sense:
- Fade away. (Possible Neil Young reference, but you can never be sure. Damned hippies…)
- Attica! (Attica prison riot. Chaos on the half shell. Good times…)
- Go with the flow. (Really annoying ancient hippy saying.)
- Make love, not war. (First off, you lose the war that way. Second off, bite my ass, hippie.)
By now, I am convinced that the driver has to have gold medallions hanging into his bare chest hair with his polyester shirt unbuttoned down to his belly button. Too much male whore cologne with a condom and a cocain vial in his pocket.
Does that paint the right picture in your head?
I whip into the next lane and speed up.
I gotta see this.
And what I am seeing is mind boggling.
Betty White is driving the car.
Ok, so its not the real Betty White, but it looks a lot like her.
I can only think that the reason she is driving this van is that her Vintage Pontiac Bonneville is in the shop being resuscitated by a miracle worker of a mechanic, and she had to borrow her son’s van.
He lives in her basement, by the way. And he is the driver I envisioned, chest hair, male whore cologne and all.
And, judging by the no signal right turn she just made without warning, Psuedo-Betty White drives like shit.
What a family. I don’t even know them and I despise them.
And since most of this is in my own head, I have, in effect, created these people and now hate what I created.
Thats fairly twisted, even for me and its still early.
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