A guy driving this would have to be named Zeke or Bo or something like that. To him, formal wear would be the gray wife-beater. You would think that gasoline fuels a car like this, but it's actually racism. It gets about a half gallon of racism to the mile, non-highway.
In The Glove Box: One of those old revolvers where you have to cock the hammer before each shot.
In The Trunk: "Urrrm...Rusty lawn chairs, a 24 of Bud, and the kids ‘cuz my fishin' buddies are takin' up all them seats"
A guy driving this car surely still lives at home. He's got his guitar and amps set up in the garage and mom doesn't even care if he smokes in there. His hair? Long and frizzy. His highlights? Blond. His t-shirt? "Van Halen 1984 Worldwide Tour, I was THERE, MAAAAN!" Enough said. The car has to be parked on the lawn because his garage is stacked high with demo tapes and unrealized dreams.
In The Glove Box: The gnarliest collection of cassette tapes ever assembled.
In The Trunk: "Demo tapes, brother...tell your friends. This is the year of Silver Magma Poison Lion!!!"
The gent driving this car is lean, mean, and…British? This car just screams pussy, but not the kind that you intercourse. There's a spot of tea on the passenger's side and I'm not talking about stains. The fine English leather upholstery happens to also be the favorite cologne of this wheelman, which makes the "racing" stripes embarrassing for everyone. These cars run on fluoride which accounts for the rarity of it being found in British drinking water and dental offices.
In The Glove Box: handkerchiefs and mystery novels
In The Boot: "Some crisps, a carton of fags, and a mess of lagers to forget me cock ups and get right arseholed. Then maybe I'll pull a dishy bird and bonk her with the old John Thomas. This bender will be the dog's bollocks!" (British Dictionary)
Anyone driving this car has given up on their dreams. They probably didn't plan on having 3 brat kids, an obese wife, and a pile of bills, but hey...what can you do right? He has sex twice a year (his birthday and anniversary), and honestly, he's sick of it. Life isn't worth living anymore and last week, he stood on the train tracks and was about one more diet Fanta away from jumping in front of a speeding steam engine. He went home and masturbated quietly in the basement instead.
In The Glove Box: Snacks for the kids (wife), soda for the kids (wife), appetite suppressants for the kids (do I really have to say it again? wife.)
In The trunk: "Trunk? What the heck is a trunk? There's a hatch back there, that's where the dog sleeps, but he's sick. The operation is too expensive."
The guy who drives this car's dad was extremely successful. Now while he's at the office closing big shot important business deals, his son is out chasing ass at the gym, buying rounds of wheat shakes on the credit card his dad still pays for. The Enzo is a little cramped to have sex in, but that's okay because his dates always seem to get really tired right when he's about to make his move.
In The Glove Box: Dad's check book, dad's credit card, and dad's reminder note to "pick up his goddamn dry cleaning on time this time"
In The Trunk: "Oh it's jam packed back there. I have a tube of Mentos and a day-planner."
Ah yes, the California douche bag special. The owner of this bad boy took off the roof cover to give his faux-hawk some breathing space. The room created by removing the doors provides freedom to pack this beast full of high school girls who don't know any better. Research (that I just conducted in my head) shows that this is the car most likely to be driven drunk; which is great because, according to more imaginary research, the idiot drunk driving this is most likely to not be missed when he rolls the son of a bitch off a California cliff side.
In The Glove Box: Mousse, gel, hair spray, surfboard wax
In The Trunk: "There's no trunk, brosef...just heavenly babes lathered to perfection in only the finest of tanning oils."
The time wasting linkings on the right have been updated.
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