Car shopping can be a pain, but it mostly fades from memory quickly. I remember going to see a Porsche 911 for sale by a guy who lived out on the Balboa Peninsula. He had done a great job of updating the exterior. There was no interior. “I ripped out the interior, but then it was summer and so I said ‘fuck it, I gotta go surfing.'” He then explained that the best part of owning a 911 was that when you came to a four way stop, you got to wave at all the other Porsche drivers. This was Orange County, after all, so that was not an uncommon opportunity.
I guess it could be worse. Greg.daddy writes
When I lived in France, I was shopping for a used Citroen Deux Chevaux (only the coolest car in the world). One ad I called about, the lady said, “yes, it’s white, with schtroumpf painted on it.” “What’s that?” “Schtroumpf ? They’re blue.” Ah, must be French for “stripes,” I thought.
Car shopping blues
Car shopping can be a pain, but it mostly fades from memory quickly. I remember going to see a Porsche 911 for sale by a guy who lived out on the Balboa Peninsula. He had done a great job of updating the exterior. There was no interior. “I ripped out the interior, but then it was summer and so I said ‘fuck it, I gotta go surfing.'” He then explained that the best part of owning a 911 was that when you came to a four way stop, you got to wave at all the other Porsche drivers. This was Orange County, after all, so that was not an uncommon opportunity.
I guess it could be worse. Greg.daddy writes
It wasn’t stripes.
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