Why You Can’t Pimp My Ride

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Most people view the car they drive as a direct portal to their super-shiny souls.

O.K. that’s not true.

They actually see their wheels as a reflection of the bulging, glossy, shark skin wallet poached off an endangered Great White on some spendy dive trip to Belize.

Why drive when you can fly? Image via blogcdn.com.

Not me though. I consider my car, or rather, my kick ass 2004 GMC Yukon XL truck, as a means to an end. It’s not pretty, but it gets the ankle-biters from Point A to Point B if not in style, then in one piece. Any first responder will tell you that in the case of oh, let’s say a mom of three who takes her eyes off the road while she’s trying to find the 2Pac station on Pandora and is so real she can’t figure out her smart phone? Big car wins. Period. And I like to win. Period.

2Pac forgot to order bullet-proof windows. Oops. Image via mainlinemusic.com

So while my neighbors half-wave at me from the confines of their ergonomically correct, 8,000,000,000 miles to the gallon, time traveling, put fifteen kids from Africa through college or drive this Batmobilesque, star-stalker, status symbol? I’m letting the kids egg my truck. Since an appearance in the Summer Olympics is their best chance at higher education, practice makes perfect, and throwing an oval-shaped animal embryo at a stationary target is a lot like the shot put.

Rio de Janeiro 2012 here we come! Image via Stacie Chadwick.

We only use 100% organic, farm raised, extra omega three fatty acid embryos when egging my Yukon. Image via Stacie Chadwick.

Plus I like to keep it real, and nothing says, “My girl is so down with that!” like a bullet hole. Well, a fake bullet hole that’s really a dent my babysitter put in the passenger side door bringing my girls back from hip-hop camp while I was getting my face blasted off during a chemical peel.

GANGSTA! Image via Stacie Chadwick.

Fake bullet holes look cool as long as they aren’t on your body. Like veneers. Or a dirty wife beater. Or pulling out a huge wad of small bills wrapped in a fifty at the corner lemonade stand and pretending to donate a lot of money to the neighborhood kid’s two-week old dream to go to computer camp at Stanford when you’re really just dropping a George Washington.

When I’m trying to set a good example being down with it, sometimes I get bored. When I get bored I do stupid stuff, like blindfolding myself with the zebra print bandana my daughter won at hip-hop camp for being so fly during the lyrical portion of her routine.

Word. Image via Stacie Chadwick.

When I’m blindfolded I feel super-chill, so I try to back into the garage using only four senses instead of all five. Like taste. Or smell. But mostly feel and sometimes sound. Occasionally I miss and actually hit the garage, because it didn’t smell like I thought it would, and not because I was trying to find 2Pac on Pandora and I couldn’t figure out my smart phone, or putting on a super-fun shade of Bonnie Bell lip gloss in the rearview mirror, or yelling at my kids.

That’s my garage. Holla if you hit that shit! Image via Stacie Chadwick.

Plus, to train for the Olympics or not get kicked out of the state of Colorado, my kids need to be fit. To cut corners and burn calories, I throw them in the Yukon, stream some 2Pac through my subwoofers, and blast the air. A lot of times it comes out hot instead of cold, especially when it’s like, 1,000,000,000 degrees outside, and we can get through Sting’s entire “Ashtanga Yoga for Homies” DVD while I’m chasing people on the highway in their Batmobilesque, star-stalker, status symbol rides who text while driving. I don’t care if parts fall off in-flight, so the truck’s especially awesome for harassing strangers, plus my state-required front license plate was ripped off at the car wash a long time ago, so it’s hard for the cops to catch me as I flee the scene with California Love blaring through my eight-speaker (well, three now), surround-sound system and a zebra print bandana hanging out the window.

No license plate means I don’t even exist, so that blur of obscenities you experienced when you were updating your Facebook status while driving? Wasn’t me. Image via Stacie Chadwick.

So while you’re at the dealer parting with about $2K to repair an electrical short in the auto lift component of your rear door, I’ll be kickin’ it old school style, training my shorties for fame, and keepin’ it real for the moms of greater suburbia. Ahite?

70 responses »

  1. Holy shit sandwich, there is nothing that makes me cry tears of mirth like a gangsta suburbanite mother of three. I’m moving to Colorado right the fuck now.
    And for the record, your third sentence perfectly describes how I think of my 2002, dented Mazda hatchback. Holla!

    • Holla Back Girl! You and I could get into some serious trouble, but the great thing is, Hubs would bail us out. I bet you could get here on one tank of gas in that Mazda. We’ll put Cristy on a plane and create a Colorado-dominating Charlie’s Angelsish trio of awesomeness. You in?

      • Cristy flosses and you chemical peel…I’m going to have to step up my game and wear my “fancy” underwear or something.
        Btw, I dreamed last night that you and I went to a Def Leopard concert. I brought home a headbanger which deeply upset Hubs. Weird.

      • OK truth: I’ve never had a chemical peel before. I had to include it b/c it just sounded so….GANGSTA! I do dermaplane though, which is post-worthy in and of itself. Do you know what that is? It’s when someone, hopefully with steady hands, scrapes all the fine baby hair off your face. You don’t have baby hair, you say? Oh, but you do. I thought the same thing before I got all of mine scraped off for the first time. No pain at all in that one, but now I don’t have to worry as much about catching crumbs on my jowl line.

        Re the dream. That’s awesome! I used to feel really sorry for the drummer dude who lost an arm, but then my husband pointed out that he probably got laid by even MORE hot chics after the accident due to the sympathy factor.

      • I’m still getting out my fancy underwear since my face is covered with baby hair.
        Your husband is genius. I bet the drummer does get laid twice as much. But I woke up from the dream thinking, “Def Leopard? Really?”

    • My great grandmother said “broad” before she died at the age of 93. She also mowed her own lawn and chewed tobacco every day. I think Skoal was her dip of choice. SHE was one tough broad. I just like to talk a big game. Thanks for the visit Carrie, I’m always happy to see you and am looking forward to reading your novel. Woo Hoo!

  2. “Occasionally I miss and actually hit the garage, because it didn’t smell like I thought it would, and not because I was trying to find 2Pac on Pandora and I couldn’t figure out my smart phone, or putting on a super-fun shade of Bonnie Bell lip gloss in the rearview mirror, or yelling at my kids.” Haa! I just about lost my bean-n-potato taco on that one! Funny stuff, Stacie! An a chemical peel…??! my God, that’s how you do it…

    • OK I kind of embellished the chemical peel, but I couldn’t help myself. Getting all gansta makes me a little crazy. In truth, I haven’t actually done it, in large part because my friends who have look like burn victims for an entire two weeks after. I HAVE done a microderm or two, which is quite lovely and doesn’t scare my kids at all.

      Thanks for the visit Laura…I hope all is well in NM. It’s ALWAYS nice to see you. =)

  3. Hysterical. I just donated my 2004 Jeep to my 18 yr old so I got a new (used) ride this year. It’s still going though even though it has many a broken piece and a large dent in the door where my ex kicked it. (Good job on the eggs and ragging on “those” neighbors. I bet they are freaking vegans too!)

    • I’d kind of love to know the backstory behind the ex kicking a dent in your Jeep. Was Maker’s involved? It might be good material for a post unless you signed some kind of vow of silence clause like Katie Holmes.

      I’m driving my Yukon all the way to 200,000 miles. Unless it dies. Then I’ll burn it in the front yard.

      Thanks for the visit TWTG!

  4. Ima give you mad propz for this, Stacie. Are you going to fit out your ride with spinner hub caps too? Because I think that would really work well with the rest of the gangsta vibe. My only regret here is that since it’s a truck, you can’t really have the whole low rider thing going on.

    • I would LOVE spinner caps but I’m afraid they’d totally freak my youngest out. She’d probably insert herself under the tire to try and hit that flow. Thanks for the comment, MW, looking forward to your next hot dead guy.

  5. Stacie girl, you are so funny. Love this post. And it’s funny that you are posting about cars today. Yesterday I brought home my very first brand new car. A 2013 Hyundai Accent GL 5-door (hatchback) in eye-catching apple green. Word. 😛

    • Better than “Seven Ways to Get Me On My Back”? But that title was so hooky and misleading! Thanks for the blog love, Jane. You know I appreciate it coming from you. Since you won’t start a blog of your own you should guest write for this one when the kiddies are back in school and everything slows down… =)

  6. Hilarious, Stace. I scraped the right side of my car on the garage due to one too many tequila shots – this was year ago and I had not had it fixed yet. Love the pics of the girls!

    • I love that I’m not alone in my car-bashing, but I wish I knew who this was. Tequila is never my friend. I’m either laughing manically or crying manically…usually crying.

      Thanks for the comment!

      • Tequila is never my friend, either – one day, I’ll tell you what I did 20some years ago after having 7 tequila shots in 25 minutes! This is Stella – never figured out Avatar, sorry!

      • Stella! You’re coming up as “Someone” now instead of “Anonymous”, so clearly you’re figuring something else out. It sounds like we have many stories to share over cocktails. Maybe we should move our potential pool party to the evening, or at least late afternoon. =)

      • Yes, we should definitely have cocktails soon – whatever time it is. Fucked up and shitty morning today because of the shooting – trust you and your girls are safe (you don’t go to Aurora, don’t you?) Let’s figure out something soon. Have a good weekend.

      • Horrible, horrible, horrible. Why do all the nut cases seem to live in Colorado? Feeling horribly for those families. I’ll be in touch to get together…. =/

  7. I’ve hit the side of the house a few times. It was not my fault. It was after we built the extension, and I didn’t know it was there. ;P

    Fortunately, siding bounces back pretty well.

    I would not, though, let my kids egg my car, as I’m vegan, and that’s gross. Maybe I’ll let them throw tofu at it instead. 🙂

    • Being a vegan is gross or egging your car? =)

      I think tofu shot putting would be totally cool, especially if you could train your kids to mark a path into the garage so you wouldn’t hit the side of the house. =p

  8. I remember I was trying to negotiate this complex turn in Bombay (Driving in Bombay is the quickest way to experience anarchy. Not really, New Delhi is probably quicker.), and I ended up turn into this 40-foot trailer. Lost a side-mirror. I wish I’d had a big GM car right then. Damage would’ve been less.
    When I buy a car here, I want a nice gas-guzzling monster, but I know the Indian in me will fold and buy a nice Toyota Camry.

    • Trust me Bharat, when all of the ankle-biters are out of the house, I’m gonna take my chances and get the smallest car on the market. Hopefully by then we’ll live some kind of Jetsonesque lifestyle and fly ourselves all over the place. Stick with your Camry. =)

      P.S. Are you old enough to even know who the Jetsons are?

  9. If you see a rackety Honda/Toyota/Nissan on the road, I bet 2 out of 3 such would have Indian grad students behind the wheel. I am one of those. When the education pays off eventually (bah!), I fancy buying either a zippy, tiny car—small enough to evade the camera and get me into invisible parking lots—or a big-ass trailer—the one that takes up four lanes while making a left turn. Anything in between is just a sad compromise!

  10. I absolutely love cars. Always have. The first car I owned was a 1969 Pontiac Strato Chief that I bought from my grandmother in New Brunswick for $500. Car was falling apart but I loved it. Nobody makes sheet metal like the USA. Yes, lots of cars from other countries are more economical and all, but they don’t have souls. And, nobody makes muscle cars like the USA! Hooah!! I grew up with American Graffiti so I know what I’m talking about. For now, the sensible, domesticated me is driving a Hyundai Sonata while my inner rocker dreams about getting behind the wheel of a Mustang Shelby Cobra GT500. Hell, if I had the money, I’d drive a Hummer. Completely unecological and just wrong on so many levels, but I can’t help it… It’s a matter of the heart. And if people don’t like it, they can blow my chrome tailpipe. FTW! (“Friend” that Wagoneer)
    Drive on Gemini Girl!

    • FTWers unite! I wish you had a blog so I could support you as strongly as you support me. There aren’t a lot of things I’d thank Le Clown for (well, at least not to his face), but you’re the exception. Glad to hear about your love affairs, all understandable and acceptable in my book.
      =)
      GG

  11. I’m curious as to why you let the young ‘uns egg your car. Unless you sprayed it down like, immediately, that egg shit is hard to get off! Or was this a ploy to get them to wash your car?

    • I was in a bit of a goofy mood that day Holly. No other excuse! Don’t worry, I washed it off right away, otherwise, with the heat we’ve been having in CO, I’d have fried egg permanently adhered to my fake bullet hole. Hope you’re well… =)

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