I am a sucker for lime green cars, even if the lime green came from fifteen cans of Wal-Mart spraypaint. This lounger sat back off the road down someone’s driveway two roads over my house, and I actually rode by like four times before I was confident no one was home so I could snap a Polaroid without someone wondering what the fuck I was up to, with my artfaggy ways. Of course, if I just went up to these places and was like, “Yo, I like your fucked-up old cars, can I take some pictures?” they’d probably be more than happy to let me. So I just make it worse by being all self-conscious. But what can I say? I have father issues where I think every redneck dude assumes I’m a pussy because I think about more than just shots of Jim Beam or shooting deers. But I’m also genetically inclined to think like my dad did, so at the same time I want to fight anyone who might think I’m a pussy, even if they don’t think it for real. It’s a strange path to walk.
This used car lot is an old junker hot spot not too far from where my man Mike Gee lives at. I have looked at this picture high before one night, and I can’t figure out if it is all de-trimmed to get painted, but then something else happened, or someone fucked up another twin car’s front end and snaked all the trim off of this one. I would assume in that case, they’d need the lights too, but maybe they put in those goofy blue-ish ones the little crewcut fuckfaces in souped up Civics like. We saw some retardedly customized import today and my wife was all like, “Haha, look at those stupid fuckers,” but then he passed us on the bypass and his license plate was “CARPE VIA” which my wife was impressed with, saying, “I didn’t expect someone with a stupid car like that to have a Latin-based play on words to say ‘seize the road’.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was probably just something he saw in Faster and More Furious: Tokyo Drift.
This was outside Eastside Speedway in Waynesboro, my local dirt track. Sometimes, for no reason, cars are left outside the gates for months on end. This was one of them. I assume it’s cars that die at the track and people just leave them, so the track drags it out front as a warning that you better not bring another car and try to race it till you drag your old shit away. I also appreciate this vehicle because I am a connoisseur of homemade camouflage paint jobs. Were I man of better finances, affording me more leisurely pursuits, I would probably be about four months deep into renting one of those bigger Cruise America.com RVs, riding around rural back roads, compiling pictures of such rides for a big full-color oversized book of vehicles with self-done camouflage. That shit’s so much more aesthetically pleasing than seeing some fu manchu little-dicked repressed homo in his big diesel F250 with some sort of trademarked camouflage pattern that he paid a lot of money to have someone do stylized all over it. I think one of them is called Real Tracker, but I used to get old hunting catalogs from a black dude I worked with, and there’s a ton of them things. You’ve probably seen it: it’s that camouflage that’s not normal ragged military style but has actual leaves and shit like deer are smart enough to know the difference between good and shitty camouflage. I don’t hunt much anymore, but I figure if they can’t see blaze orange hats, I usually just like to be contrarian and go out in the woods in a blaze orange jumpsuit with a camouflage stocking ski mask on. The ladies at the country store get a little nervous when you roll in like that though, especially with a gun in your hand.
A cheaply pimped car, in the Best Buy parking lot, parked at the far end by the delivery truck. I would bet you dollars to quarters the driver of this car works installing stereos at the Best Buy, and will accidentally forget to charge you for the installation harness if you accidentally leave a blunt full of a shitty dimebag on the passenger seat prominently.
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