Can you meet her in a Beater, funny, reminds me of high school Options

[darksecret]

There's a nagging question always hanging in the back of a guy's mind: Does having a nice car help me snag a hot girl? Of course, women will say no if you ask them, but we had to know for sure. So we decided to hit the streets and conduct some field research to see how girls would react if we were driving a piece of junk. The car that we used was a 1985 Caprice Classic. It was several different colors (including primer), had heavy body damage, a broken windshield, torn upholstery and a muffler that spewed like a smoke stack. There was no way in hell a girl would want to get near this car. You need a tetanus shot just to sit in it.

After several unsuccessful attempts at trying to start the car, I finally got it running. We didn't have to worry about any speeding tickets since the car would only do 40 mph. The suspension was pretty rough. It felt like the tires were four different sizes. I'm sure the upholstery was nice back in '85, but on this day, a beach towel would have to serve as the custom interior.

I wracked my brain for a place where girls thrive. I drove to the nearest mall. Hey, that place is crawling with ladies, right? One of them has got to talk. I finally made it to the mall some forty minutes later, which wouldn't be bad except it's only ten minutes from my house. You see, the car kept breaking down. When I arrived, I found I was feeling a little light headed. The exhaust leaking through the trunk into the car could be the reason. Man, this car is a weapon of mass destruction.

There wasn't a shortage of women going to the mall on this particular day. The problem, however, was that none of them wanted to talk to me for some reason. I checked my hair and teeth--both were clean so it couldn't be my hygiene. I wasn't being vulgar...no, it was something else--the car. The exhaust fumes must have scared them away. Perhaps they didn't see the car through the cloud emanating from behind me. But, alas, the fumes go away a few minutes after the engine has been shut off.

The first girl who approached me seemed nice at first; she asked if the car was legal and if I got it from my grandma. My witty reply: "This is too much car for my grandma to handle. So how would you like to go for a ride?" My newly found lady friend was quick to answer by asking if I was drunk. "Why would you say that?" I inquired. "You would have to be drunk to drive that piece of sh*#." This girl pulled no punches.

It was decided that the mall might not be the best place to talk to the ladies, so the beach soon became the next scheduled destination. I couldn't think of a better place. After all, there would be girls in bikinis and they might even have a laid-back attitude. So I pointed the old Caprice West and began the journey.

My arrival was not quite as stealthy as I would have liked; all the backfiring you know. I found it was a great way to get the ladies attention. It didn't even matter that the horn was broken. Now, if the car would've had a radio then I could've turned on some sick tunes, but we can't always have what we want. On this attempt, I decided to get out of the car and try this sort of rebel, cool guy kind of thing and sit on the hood and act smooth.

The first batch of girls to walk my way continued to do just that. They didn't even stop. As a matter of fact they seemed to increase their speed as they passed my car. I checked to see if my zipper was undone but everything was cool. Then out of nowhere came two nice looking women with very happy looks on their faces. I am thinking that this could be the big break I've been waiting for. They actually stopped and began talking to me and even said that they liked my ride. Great! I couldn't believe it! Just then they asked if I wanted to buy magazine subscriptions. After I shook my head they left, but not before one of them told me my car should be condemned.

With my frustration at an all-time high and self-confidence at an all-time low, I mustered up enough courage to give it one more try and see if I could get at least one girl to talk to me. It was getting late and when it gets late, you know all the honeys be dancin' so I headed to a nearby club. This wasn't just any club but the hottest one in the area, where a lot of celebrities hang out and if you are not on the guest list then it is impossible to get in.

I believe in the luxuries in life and one of those is taking advantage of the valet. Everyone deserves to experience a good valet. As I pulled in to the club parking lot, I noticed a lot of people in line looking my way. They probably thought I was a celebrity or something. After all, I get told at least five times day that I look like Ben Affleck. I got out of the car and handed the keys to the valet except he held them like they were a dirty pair of underwear or something. This was my lucky night because out in front of the club were five of the hottest looking women ever created. I began to make my way over to them but suddenly flames began spewing from under the hood of my car which, incidentally, had been left as a last priority for the valets. This made the ladies a little squeamish and the fact that I had to help push the car didn't help the situation out at all.

But once I was inside the club it was a level playing field, where you were not judged by what kind of car you drive. I planted myself at the bar and right away I was approached by a woman. I asked if I could buy her a Vanilla Stoli and Diet Coke, to which she replied, "No, I'll just take the money instead." She got nothing. Often in life when things aren't going your way, lady luck will side with you. From the other side of the club I could see a beautiful woman smiling at me. I cut through the crowd and introduced myself. She and I engaged in some deep conversation, where she told me what she thought of me; how intelligent and wonderful she thought I was. Dudes, she even went so far as to tell me she could see me in her future! We felt it would be better to talk somewhere a little quieter so we made our way out of the club.

I gave my claim ticket to the valet and told him to make it quick, after all here I was standing with the girl who I might just spend the rest of my life with and I wouldn't want her to catch a cold standing in the chilly night air. And then it happened. It sounded like a series of gunshots in the distance but it wasn't that. It was a sound that I knew all too well--my car. It took three valets to get my car to me: one to steer and two to push. I tipped each of them a dollar for their work and just then the girl of my dreams tells me that she has her standards and that my car is far below her requirements. "But what do you mean?" "I only date a guy if he drives an exotic luxury car, not something from a crash-up derby." And just as quick as she came into my life, she vanished.

I was reeling but I picked my pride up off of the asphalt and pushed through the crowd that had gathered around my waiting vehicle. After a hard day of field research I can safely say that having a ****ty car isn't an asset to claim when talking to a girl. As I drove away from the club I consoled myself with the thought that somewhere there is a girl who places herself above material things. I could feel the breeze whistling through the cracks in the windshield, the suspension wobbling under my toes and someone shouting after me, "Hey! You shouldn't steal from old ladies!"

Tuner's Top spots for meeting girls
Kinko's Copies
strip Club
grocery Store
Starbucks
your sister's slumber party
weddings
importtuner.com message board
car show parking lots
your mom's work
adult video store
12-step meetings
hang out with your dad

- Import Tuner Magazine

I found this in the import tuner archives, I love it the '85 Cutlass was a pimp car.