We can't let this go without putting in our own comments...now can we?
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(copy)"She'll be ready for Hot August Nights," he said. Yet one marriage, three children and 13 years later, there she sits in our driveway -- a rusting, cavernous testament to his procrastination.
Sometimes, she trips the kids or gouges me with a jagged appendage just for fun. She's a wicked, contemptible coupe.
To men who fawn over her like adolescents in the presence of a supermodel, she represents dreams. But I know better. Her dull gray exterior belies her extravagant taste; I've seen the withdrawal slips.
One of us has to go, and it ain't gonna be me. Studebaker, anyone? Anyone?