When in my Ranchero, it's hard not to feel like a celebrity.
In fact, while in the Ranchero, it is hard not to feel a number of things. A short list of inspired feelings includes, but is not restricted to:
-feelings of David Lee Roth-like power;
-feeling that, with a six pack, anything is possible;
-feeling that the world changed, for the worse, on December 31st, 1982;
-feeling that, given the chance, a Ranchero driver would never permit a white tiger to bite his head like Roy Horn (of Siegfried & Roy), and would soundly whoop the ass of any tiger, white or otherwise, attempting such bitch-ass behaviour;
-adopt Alfred E. Newman's laissez-faire attitude of 'What, me worry?'
I'd like to see the list of feelings conjured up while driving a Civic:
-feeling that living in the basement of mom and dad's place is okay;
-feeling that Ground FX, decals, and noise of modified Civic adequately replace awesomeness, speed, and ability to haul loads in the bed of a Ranchero cruck;
-feeling that, in a Civic, one could skip 4th period math and not get caught.
-feeling that, given the chance, a Civic driver would never permit Odie to steal his Lasagna like Garfield does, time and again, with humorous results;
-adopt Randy Newman's attitude that 'Short people got no reason to live'.
My point is this: today a pan-handling deaf-mute walked up to me while I was putting a parking receipt in my window, pointed at the Ranchero, then gave the thumbs up.
He then produced a note explaining that he was a deaf-mute looking for money.
I shook my head.
Finally, he pointed at the Ranchero, then at himself, then made a motion like he was driving.
Even though he used proper ten-and-two steering technique in his mime, I shook my head.
The power of the Ranchero to bring people together and bridge language barriers may be exactly what the Middle East needs right now.