US car writer COLBY DOUSCHE returns with more self-aggrandising drivel
So last week my editor calls me and he’s like, ‘Hey Dousche, what are you doing tomorrow? Sitting around itching your dick and eating Cheetos, same as today?’ Way wrong man.
Full disclosure: They were Doritos
So, turns out the guy needs someone with grande cojones to collect and deliver a serious piece of hardware for a comparo test and, naturally, who did he think of? Nine other dudes but they were all busy, and that’s when he saw sense and decided to send up the flare on yours truly by pushing the digits for 1-800-melonballs.
Full disclosure: It was only the left one, and that’s all take care of now.
So you’re more sentient than the average schmo – of course you are ‘cos you’re reading something I wrote – and I guess you’re wondering what weapons grade canyon carver they were begging CD to saddle up. Okay, plug in your sound holes ‘cuz shit is about to get real; the office jockey squeaking down my cell wants to hook me up with a Mustang GT350. Well let me tell you, he made the right call. Coulda got some pubeless prick from the typing department to shuttle the ‘Stang but he knows he needs a real man ‘cuz I got the skills that pays tha bills.
Full disclosure: Some of my bills are taken care of by my parents. Specifically, legal and dermatological.
So anyway, the poindexter at his PC says I gotta collect it from some depot, take it 100 miles up country, deliver it to the guys from the office at the photo shoot location and then I should leave because Amber is going to be there and apparently I ‘creep her out’. Truth is, she wants a piece of Dousche but she tries to fight it by, for example, calling the cops when she saw me outside her house that time. Then he says I can write a sidebar about the car ‘if I must’ which is his code for, ‘burnish me with your typed gold, master’. I say, sure. But I ain’t taking no lame-ass auto maker payola man ‘cos that ain’t my style so don’t even ask. If the ‘Stang’s a sack of puke with a side of shit, The Dousche is gonna say so ‘cos I shoot from the hip and piss from my dick.
Full disclosure: Yea, the tube has been removed now.
So he’s all like, whatever dude. Just get the car there in one piece with none of your usual tricks blah blah traffic cops blah blah extensive chassis damage blah blah turned out to be a hooker yada yada they had to replace two of the seats. I’m like, Jeez man, cool out, how many times have I been a total dick on your dollar, huh?
Full disclosure: Aggregate based on asking other people from the office: Seven
So the next day I cruise my sweet ass Sentra – aka The Thing – down to this pony-ass Ford place at Santiago and Cressida. It’s the kinda place where they stuff the fois gras geese and process the free iPads for all the dick-licking buff book corpses who wouldn’t know how to drive a man’s car if their golf handicap depended on it. I guess the branded-pants robots who run the place must’ve been pretty shocked to see the real deal rock up dressed for duty ‘cuz they were whistling and laughing and saying ‘nice pajamas’ and shit.
Full disclosure – It’s a Nomex pant suit.
So I’m onto the keys like my cousin on a crack pipe then I’m shouting adios a-holes and cranking that motor like it’s my sister in those dreams I keep having. Before I can get this ride rollin’ of course I gotta sayonara the stability control ‘cuz if the first thing you do when you get into a sweet ride ISN’T nuke the nanny then you don’t deserve your balls or, in my case, the one they didn’t have to remove. So I blitz the buzzkill, dip the left pedal, slam her into first, set vectors for hammertime and then I thought a kid was going to run out in front of me and the camber of the road was very poor and I was unfamiliar with the way they had redesigned the controls which was, in my view, dangerous and, long story short, that is pretty much how the accident occurred.
Full disclosure – Sorry David.
Colby Dousche is Awesomeness Editor at CarSnark.com
