The C3 ‘Vette is an Atlantic City escort, layering on foundation and mortgaging her future to maintain a lifestyle that has not made sense since 1967. When I see a C3, I think about that lady at the bowling alley bar who grabbed my hoo-haas in 2008. She held her Kool and said: “It’s about time we get some YOUNG blood in this place.

DeLorean DMC-12: A car that proves the ontological argument.

-Is it possible to feel nostalgia for something you’ve never experienced? Is it possible to return to a moment of artless joy, the likes of which you’ve never experienced? Is it possible for an unknowable place to feel like home? Can one ever truly be worthy…of this?

-It looks the way love feels. It’s like making out with a high school girlfriend and going for second base, only to suddenly realize she isn’t stopping you this time. “Why isn’t she stopping me? She always stops me!” Maybe it’s her sudden, inexplicable fondness for my fully engorged, blood-filled skin sword. Maybe it’s the car. Definitely the car. But who cares? WHO GIVES A BEAVER’S DAM WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR HAND RESTING COMFORTABLY ON TIT?