THIS IS NOT MY TRUCK, there aren't enough dings, dents, scratches, keymarks, carcases, and bird droppings... but one can always imagine they way it used to be, back in the day when a new vehicle was the T*Ts, and you puffed out your chest at the mere mention of your battle chariot.
I'm playing the lottery tommorrow and it doesn't involve a vending machine...er, well in a way I guess it does. Tommorrow at 3pm I'll be playing the Muffler Lottery. Since the old muffle-dirt is somewhere on the Northway causing havoc I'll be getting a new one. Now I'm not too sure what exactly has to be replaced. I've never actually looked at the exhaust system under the Frankensteiner (while it was intact) So....I'm playing the lottery, with hopes that the grease monkey doesn't have elephantitis of his gorilla sized mitts to ball up and thunder into any of my orafices.
It will have only been 5days of driving around sounding like a tricked out Harley with extra attitude. I don't know if I'll miss the badass rumble. It'll definitely cut down on the "are they staring at me and my busted ass truck" syndrome I've been copping as of late. After the monkeys tinker around under the truck, touching it all over, and eventually screwing a new muffler into it...I'm going to a full service car wash to make it feel less dirty, and give it a full tank of premium gas. I bet even inanimate objects feel a bit violated when they have a procedure done that rivals a colonoscopy, and trucks don't eat icecream.
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