So, I was driving home from work yesterday and I swear I heard loud voices over the nasally drone that is my exhaust. Sure as shit, some really awesome guy (or maybe a girl, the voice was high-pitched and possibly pre-pubescent) started talking shit about my car.

Ordinarily, I'm the first person to call my own car a piece of shit but I really wish that you all could have seen this spectacular piece of machinery. Let me paint a picture of total malaise for you:
Late '90's FWD Monte Carlo.
Gold paint.
Wal-Mart 18" chrome wheels.
Bone stock otherwise.
Mind you, my beater isn't that great of a car but it's light years ahead of that pile of crap. Maybe I should get "some real American muscle" like the driver proclaimed about his magnificent Monte. Right.