J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown – September '10 #5: “Inside Peanut Butter, Outside Jelly” by Cadillac Don

You know, I don’t think I could ever pay to completely pimp out a car. Like, I always have warped ideas of doing pimp/rat hybrids, where you get candyflake paint put over top of busted up fenders, so the shit is tight as fuck paintjob-wise, but still all crushed and crumpled. Or ugly colors. There’s an ugly Impala on route 20 south of where I live that I would totally buy and put like 39 coats of clear on it to preserve it’s ugly glory. I stop every now and then and look at it, and the insides are dismantled. I could never spend big money on pimping the guts of a car out because I’m too nasty. Like if it was still stock and clean, I’d keep it clean, but fuck hiring somebody to put diamond stitched fabric all over the seats or redo the vinyl in a different color. I might get a woodgrain wheel, and probably would be tempted to buy a digital dash for an old school bomber, just because that would be funny to me.
Lately, my dream car has been an early ‘80s Jaguar that I paint up that pastel kinda green color they come in, but I’d get the suspension lifted to put giant rims on it, because I’m not sure I’ve ever seen somebody lift and wheel out some fine Euro engineering, and it would be such an abomination to white sports car people. “The handling… you ruined the sporty handling!” I’d also have a three times larger Jaguar emblem fabricated to replace the smaller on on the front hood.
Mostly though I still want to get another boxy as hell ’91 Volvo stationwagon, put mirror tint any and all windows, leave the paint fucked up however it is, probably with two busted taillights like all early ‘90s Volvo stationwagons, and then jack it up and put giant 26-inch chrome rims with more chrome than empty space, so that when combined with the mirror tint, it would just look like this ridiculous space cubicle floating down the street on spinning slabs of silver. And then it would stop at the Wawa to fill up and get a tallboy of Miller High Life and people would be like, “What the fuck?” and out would step me, a goddamned mountain hobbit looking ass 30-something dude.
Except I wouldn’t buy a tall can because I’m not drinking right now, so I’d probably get a hazlenut coffee with lots of half-n-half and plenty of sugar, and I wouldn’t drive the car so much as have it drive me, except it wouldn’t drive me because I’d think about how stupid the whole thing was and I’d give it to my cousin or something and buy myself something else not so goddamn hipster dumbass-looking.
I’ve been looking at government auction sites a lot lately, trying to find a pair of schoolbuses to back up against each other, weld the back doors together with a little tunnel, and have a work studio for both me and my wife, her’s on the left, mine on the right, at an angle so we could build a deck and use it as a stage when we have parties. That’s really my goal for 2011, more than anything else, to make that happen. I actually saw a woodstove for sale on the side of the road the other day, a little pot bellied all metal stove like a hobo would cook on inside an abandoned shack in western Iowa, and I almost stopped to see if it was less than $20 because I was gonna need it for one of the bus studios most likely.
There was an old school half-sized school bus from like the early ‘70s that had been turned into a library truck and then into a mobile police command unit I saw on one government auction site. It was all black and grey painted and had screens still inside it, although I doubt they were hooked up to anything. It was one of the nicest things I’d seen in forever, and if I had $1200 I would’ve bought it, because now that I’m not drinking beer, I’d really like a 1970s mobile police command unit bus to drive to sketchy places in the small towns I live near, and just park and sit there for a while, writing rojonekku haiku.
STEAL “Inside Peanut Butter, Outside Jelly”
NEXT UP: I listen to too much rap music!