Butch is the only clerk I ever worked with who was better at his job than I. When you're the best, you get sent into the biggest mess. He's working in the worst ghetto store in Maryland
Headed down I-83 to work, doing 65 in my Charger, standard, five-speed, not a racer, but a good machine. I'm in the center lane.
Five cars are coming up fast, jockeying, racing, doing 85-90.
I move over as this one cuts off everybody and then cuts off the lead car—almost a pileup.
The lead car that got passed is a Crown Vic[toria], what the Baltimore Police use for unmarked cars. He puts on his flashers and everybody slows down as the new lead pulls over in front of me to the shoulder. We're all expecting the cop to pull this guy over, but he just turns his lights off and guns it—gone, doing a hundred.
I get to work at four. At five I take my smoke break so I can keep an eye out for the ladies coming in for the bakery.
They get in. Now there are four of us standing out front smoking and looking out across the lot at our four cars and the cop, who is sitting in the middle of the lot in his cruiser, lights on, looking the other way. We're out front waiting for the door to be replaced because some woman kicked it in when they wouldn't let her come in and shop after closing last night.
Then, from or right—the cops on the left and our cars are on the right—comes this tall thin guy with a hoody on.
No, he wasn't Amish.
No, he was not Japanese.
What the fuck does a Jew look like, anyhow?
No, he was not Latino.
Not white—not even close!
Do you wanna hear the fuckin' deal or what?
This guy looks in my car and leaves it—my car is worth the other three combined, customized out the yah.
He then looks into the next car and passes that up. That car is in old beater, a five-speed Escort—what a piece-of-shit. But God love 'er, this girl is still driving it. He passes up the Escort.
He then looks into the next car—an automatic, a Mustang. He tries the doors and they're all locked.
So he goes to the next car—cop is clueless—looks inside, and tries the doors. No luck, so he's off down over the hill.
The point is, this guy can't drive standard transmission. Most people can't. So in times like these, when a guy will try and drive your car off in plain view of you and a cop, you want a standard transmission. They perform better than automatics when you get used to them. Also, if you can customize your own older model with none of the electronic bullshit in it, you'll be good to go when the grid goes down—'cause you know these fuckers are rising up like a chimp army if that ever happens.
Rubbing Out Palefaces
Moral Minority Survival at the End of Caucasian Time Paperback
I drive an old car also. I don't think most car thieves would even be able to start it, especially in cold weather.
For your car to survive an EMP, it has to have points. Basically, pre-1974. I'm not so sure electronic ignition would still work. Someone tell me if I'm wrong here, but I think I heard once that the old ignition control modules would get fried.