switch it up

Its a quiet sunday afternoon in San Antonia, TX. The glare of the setting sun bathed the Thrifty rental yard in a warm orange glow, as passenger jets drifted by lazily on the horizon.

But something was stirring under the maze of overpasses and intersections. The occasional quiet chirp of hard braking, the dull groan of an overworked engine, the tired, repetitive drone of an ignored GPS, "recalculating, recalculating, recalculating".

The sounds increased in intensity until finally a filthy, 3.5 wheeled Chrysler 300c with Illinois license plates came blasting into the Thrifty driveway. The doors creaked open and two strikingly handsome men stepped forth and made for the service counter.

They approached the lone attendant, who failed to hide her excitement by nochalantly asking how she could help.

Keys slammed down on the counter.

Arms folded.



"We're finished with this car, give us a charger."

And so it was.













Looks better, handles better, transmission works, only 1,000 miles on the clock.

Drove to Amarillo, 45 seconds before we go to the hotel the tyre pressure warning light flared up. We werent even doing burnouts. God damn it.

Pending a vehicle that doesnt run on swish cheese rubber, we are going to spraypaint cadillac wrecks and eat 700oz steaks tomorrow (today), then I think we go to the Grand Canyon.