vabubba
I'm a Dude Playing a Dude Disguised as Another Dude
vabubba

Kind of like owning a Lotus.

Currently, the worst part of the Richmond to D.C. train ride is that CSX owns the tracks and their freight trains have priority. One time my train was behind a very slow freight train, resulting in a very late arrival.

Or destroying the White House rose garden for a tennis court.

Not even close. Air Force 1 is a consistent display to the world that the leader of the most powerful nation in the world has arrived.

The current color scheme is iconic.  Leave it the fuck alone.

Waiting for the rollover comments.

Just goes to show you what cowards these MAGATs are.

I actually had a firefighter tell me this! A firefighter! You know, the guy who rolls up on grizzly accidents?

Try explaining to these folks that Social Security and Medicare is a form of socialism.

Don’t forget Marxism.  Another word they don’t know the meaning of but sends them into a slobbering frenzy when they hear it.

What gets me is when the anti-EV, right wing ‘media’ crows that they only account for 2% of automobiles on American roads, they conveniently fail to mention that EV manufacturers sell every one they make.

If the panels are machine washable you can take them to the laundromat along with the oily shop rags and stained rugs.  You know, the stuff you wouldn’t dare put in your own washing machine. 

Fabric-bodied, huh?

Exactly.  Finance and accounting types are there to monitor costs, not control them.

GM, at least, put them on the full-sized wagons in the ‘70's. They looked stupid.

“Plus, after hearing all the horror stories of grift and incompetence at those places, I would never, EVER patronize one.”

Can I ask a somewhat related question about oil life monitors?

Maybe the Teamsters need to make a comeback. Where’s Jimmy Hoffa when you need him?

I’m thinking some sort of Russian import. The odometer has been changed and a detailing made it look good enough to sell.

I find the stupid to be hilarious, followed by a feeling of deep despair in the pit of my stomach.