Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Every Saab allegedly includes a blonde pre-installed, but where precisely those greasemonkeys hid her is a mystery, because I’ve searched the car thoroughly. The trunk was the first place I looked without success, then the glove compartment, and heaven knows the ashtray was about as useful as a mime in outer space.

One prominent feature of my car is its newfound ability to attract bird poo with little provocation. I tell you, any avian surprises were warranted in the past, whether because I parked under a tree or because I wrung the everloving shit out of a crow. Such comfortable causal relationships, however, have given way to completely unreasonable coincidences.

I’ve made sure to park in open lots and garages, far away from any kind of perch, and yet I have Woody Woodpecker’s leavings on my windshield, roof, hood, and both sides of my car. There are sinister forces at work here. The sensible thing to do would be to bite the bullet and spend the eight bucks at an ineffectual car wash, but in the spirit of continuing yesterday’s theme of frugality, let me suggest it’s going to rain soon.