I’m in Cub Scouts and my dad is driving me to a den meeting in our shitty 1974 Chevy Beauville van. Two-tone green, loud (meaning AWESOME) exhaust, and it’s winter in Chicago. The meeting is held in the basement of the rectory of the nearby church, and the meeting is at 8 am. We’re a little late, and so my dad wheels…

It was CP before I read that there was no title. Hurl on general principles.

Neat idea, but about $5,500 too rich for my blood.

I can assure you, sir, that approximately 0% of my hooning would be done on the highway.

Oh my goodness, yes. Buy it and hoon it to death. Up here in the rust belt it would last exactly one winter, I’d wager, but the only way you could have more fun with that kind if scratch is...well, I’m sure there’s a way...

I always wanted to like these, but the center-mounted gauges were always a deal-breaker. I’d take my $3,800 elsewhere. Maybe find a nice Matrix. CP.

Oh baby. Yes please. If I didn’t live in Chicago, where this thing would be a pile of rusty powder after two years, I would buy it.

Fuck yeah. Easy NP.

Fuck, that one’s a no-brainer. NP all day.

I’d do it, just because I have an odd boner for manual transmissions where they usually aren’t. Even though I shouldn’t, I am voting NP.

Lame.

It would be worth more (not really) if he hadn’t fucked with it. CP.

None taken! I like the cut of your jib, sir.

A buttload may not actually be a unit of measurement (though I use it all the time). However, a butt certainly is. It’s but one of the goofy English units of measurement no doubt conceived by someone smoking the same stuff it would take to get an otherwise sane person to buy this car.

A crackpipe haiku:

Old Hondas will always have a special place in my heart that no amount of logic or common sense can quash. NP.

Yeesh...maybe for somebody, but not me. CP.

Automatic? Sad face. I would have said NP but for that.

I bought a Volkswagen.

By the twenty-four balls of the twelve Apostles, not a chance. Holy crackpipe, Batman.