As one who succumbed to the so-called “middle-age spread” long before I actually reached middle age, one would think that I have little room [sic] to talk about bloating. But I can, because I’m not talking about people here, but cars. Let me get this right out of the way first: I don’t like big…
via Bloat — Splendid Isolation
I’ll take one of each, thanks. Seriously.
I don’t happen to share Kim’s affections for small cars, though. They may have worked great for the tiny European streets they were meant to navigate, and at the relatively slow speeds they’d have to move at considering they were powered with vacuum cleaner motors, but that shit don’t work in the big ole U.S. of A. Which is not to say that I like the titanic monstrosities we too often see on American roads. Stupid and 99% mostly useless.
Whores and Ale 