History is written by the victors.
–Winston S. Churchill
I have this personal pet theory. It goes a little something like this:
What do I mean by this? It’s time for a tale of hungry dogs, drowning by garden hose, buxom secretaries, altered birth certificates and who’s car is parked next door.
After three years of daily posting I was recently honored by WordPress who featured my article about China on their Freshly Pressed page. As a result of that freak accident I picked up a few new friends as subscribers. Welcome! I’m a Fresh Maker.
For all my friends, both freshly new and old/busted, today I will reveal arcane knowledge that will, if heeded, save your life. I can single-handedly make you remain a viable member of the elite group known as “still alive.”
Interested? Read on! And unlike some people, after I’ve saved your life my demands on your servitude will barely be noticeable. You won’t even know I’m here.
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Have you been in a traffic accident? The first thing you should probably do is check to see if another vehicle was involved. If yes, you’ve probably still got some kind of a shot. If not, you probably just screwed up big time.
A traffic accident with only one vehicle tends to be a problem. These are known as Single-Vehicle Accidents or SVAs. In such an accident the implication is that, short of other evidence, the accident was caused by operator error. Insurance companies typically assign fault to the driver in SVAs, short of acts of God, flying objects, etc.
Blinded by the sun? Too bad. You’re still operating a motor vehicle with great capacity to kill. Hit a pothole and cause $5,000 damage to your ride? Yeah, the city sucks but it’s still on you. Like it or not, in most cases, an SVA is usually the driver’s fault.
When I hear about an SVA it always makes me think.
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I’ve never been into fast cars. As far as I’m concerned, the male analogy stops right there. While the other guys were talking about engine blocks and rattling off weird nonsensical numbers and making lamps out of blocks of wood in shop class, I was taking “home economics” with 29 girls and learning how to sew my own apron and make chocolate chip cookies.
Yet, when it came to driving itself, suddenly I was interested. I just didn’t care what went on inside that thing. On my birthday and the day it became legal I obtained my learner’s permit. Exactly one year later I aced my driving test.
My dad taught me to drive. We practiced together in his car (an automatic) and my car (stick shift) which I had already bought with my own money. The car cost me $300, money which I had earned working part-time at a variety of local fast food establishments. It was a 1969 Pontiac LeMans hardtop. The driver’s door never opened, you had to slide across the one-piece seat from the passenger side, and the manual transmission was so wonky and loose that I eventually became the only human who could drive that baby. You had to perform little maneuvers while shifting, like lifting, twisting and pushing down to get it to go into gear. But that baby was mine.
I moved to the big city to live with my dad but I wanted to finish my senior year of high school in my little home town. So I became a commuter at the age of 18. My daily commute was a 30-mile drive (one-way) to school.
I enjoy driving. I’ve done a lot of it. It’s the one area of my life where I am the one percent unlike the 99% of other idiots on the road. My instincts and cat-like reflexes have kept me alive when most other idiots would have perished in a fantastic ball of fire.
And I’ve never forgotten one of the most basic principles my dad taught me about being a good driver on day one with my learner’s permit in hand: Drive so that you don’t impact other drivers on the road.
This is a story about a typical idiot who never received and/or heeded such critical training.
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Hollywood is out of ideas. Thankfully, Detroit is not. They started a revolution with the legendary cup holder and they haven’t checked their rear-view ever since.
The man who said, “Hey, let’s put a television set in a car.” That dude is an automotive god.
Cars can talk to you. Does this ring a bell? “The door is a jar.” Oh yeah? Well your momma was a motherfucking toaster!
If you ever get bored and want to learn absolutely nothing about cars, my advice is to watch a modern day car commercial. You’ll learn everything there is know except anything about actual cars. These days that primarily consists of sound systems and GPS devices. “Hello, car. Play Moby.” Holy shit! The car stereo plays Moby! We really are made of stars! How much extra do I have to pay to upgrade this baby to the super slutty female voice.
“Make me go left, Master. Make me go right. Put me in park and drive me.”
I hope that’s not real leather.
Oops. I digress. I forgot this shiny metal box has wheels. And that it moves and stuff. And, if your attention wavers for just a single nanosecond, you can squash people like bugs or even take yourself out SVA style. (Single Vehicle Accident. Accept no substitutes.)
So what is Detroit’s next whopper of an automotive idea? Something known as the “connected car.” You see, they are under the impression that people get off on a steady stream of information. If it’s good enough for your iPhone, iPad or iPod it’s good enough for your car, right?
Bring on the features that tech-savvy consumers want like a 17″ dashboard screen that can check Facebook or 8″ touch screens for controlling your music.
And let us not forget Ford Motor Co. that offers the ability for drivers to receive their Twitter feeds. Said one driver, “It’s a little bit distracting.” No shit. Ya think?
Thanks to modern technology you can now read your stream while you drive into a stream. I call that a win-win!
No word yet on the ability to send tweets from your car, but that doesn’t daunt me. I’m going to jump ahead and imagine some of the tweet possibilities. I figure it might go down a little something like this:
“Hello, Candy Bubbles.”
“Hello, Master. Voice print authorization accepted. Are you going to turn me on?”
“Yeah. Do it.”
“All cylinders are thrusting and pistons are pumping, Master. My juices are really flowing now. Awaiting your orders, Master.”
“You know, Candy. We could quite literally have sex right now. You know I love that seat-belt adjustment thing you do. But I think that’s going to have to wait. For now I’m just going to send a few tweets. After that, you can load me up a nude Tayne.”
As always, my imagination ran wild. Just what sort of tweets could you send from the car? The possibilities are endless!
- Some bastard just cut me off.
- The car in front of me has “Obama 2012” and “NRA” stickers. I’m reporting him as a drunk driver.
- At protest in Hummer. Getting mixed results. Probably should have opted for the bullet proof windows. #Egypt
- I’m driving by a McDonald’s and I’m not going in. #MorallySuperior
- I hate it when people killed in auto accidents spoil my commute. #late
- Pitch is out! I can’t hold altitude! She’s breaking up, she’s break— #bionic
- Detroit, we have a problem.
- In-house drive-by was a successful get-together. Proceeding to next destination. #RATM
- Well I’ll be. I can drive 55.
- Thank god for milk jugs. I’m literally streaming in my car.
- Just crashed through barrier, flying down canyon. Estimate I got two seconds left… #sucks
- I was caller 13 and just won Justin Bieber tix! #beliebers
- Just saw loser driving and talking on a cell phone. #angry #fail
- Wiener One is mobile. I say again: Wiener One is on the move. Here’s a pic to prove it.*
- Hey, Paul. My iPhone just notified me you’re in the car ahead. I’m literally following you. Get it? Ha ha ha!
- Do you know the way to San Jose? No, seriously. Do you? #lost
- I brake for internets.
- Life is full of potholes.
- I just found the longest red light in the world.
- I’m famous. I just caused an amber alert. #candy
- The police don’t think I know about spike strips.
- I am controlling transmission. #car #jokes
- Oh, shit. A wall!!! #death
Imagine what the world would be like without important information like this. I shudder to even think about it.
So, what would YOU tweet from your car if you could?