I’ve often wondered exactly what it is that motivates car manufacturers to name their new vehicles the way they do. I swear some of them must be trying to get themselves fired when they come up with new car names. The other day I was driving along, minding my own business, when a Ford Explorer popped out in front of me. This guy stopped, started, decided to turn left, changed his mind and turned right. Never follow an Explorer, they don’t care where they’re going, as long as they enjoy the ride.
A Viper is a scary car to get next to. These things coil into the tiniest little parking spaces, turn on a dime and strike you. I barely escaped with my life. The Taurus that I drove next to recently didn’t like little red cars. I could hear it revving its engine getting ready to gore me. My little red car rose up on two wheels, and scooted out of sight like Herbie the Love Bug. I haven’t see it since.
Watch out for those Dodge Caravans, they travel in large groups and only one of them actually owns a map, so the leader of the pack is the only one who knows where they are going. Don’t follow them or you may start out in Kansas and end up in Madagascar. Never follow a Horizon either. Those things literally follow the horizon, never stopping until they drop dead.
Be careful with those P.T. Cruisers too. They look like cars from the 1940’s and they only drive according to the 1940’s speed limits. P.T. stands for Patiently Time-consuming. The Pontiac Fire Birds are hot little cars, literally. They explode in flames and then fly away, leaving the owner wishing he’d bought a Thunderbird instead. They’re only noisy and flighty.
Never try to drive a Lamborghini either. Those things only know one city and if you don’t like Albuquerque you’d better just stay home. Both the car and that city have one thing in common: Their motto; “Most likely to be misspelled.” For eight years I drove a Pontiac Grand Prix. That car would only do about 90, but it would go a lot faster if you hit the gas.
The best adventure I ever had was behind the wheel of a Jeep Mountaineer. Only trouble was, it got me stranded on top of Everest because it was too scared to come down again. That was only a little more frightening than the old Jeep Wagoneers. They only had a two-horsepower engine and the big, wooden wheels were an eye-sore. But I must admit it was good on gas. Hard on hay, but good on gas.
My favorite car is the one you really want to follow, because it knows exactly where you’re going. This car is the true leader of the pack on the highways today, and you’ll know it when you see it. The Ford Escort has that way about it, since it’s always the car with a purpose. The one car you truly don’t want to get behind on the highway is mine. I drive a Ford Focus, and it’s the most myopic piece of machinery on the road. Honk if you love to laugh!