The Panty Dropper’s engine has been making a very aggressive and menacing roaring sound for the last 6 months or so. I finally took it in, and my mechanic was all up in there with a stethoscope – an actual grown-up, medical-grade stethoscope. When he emerged from beneath the hood, he declared that he couldn’t find the source of the roar, and started suggesting that it was something metaphysical. “Your car might be possessed.”
“By what?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not a priest. Could be any number of lesser imps, devils, or demons. Could be the dark lord himself.”
“Why would the dark lord want to possess this piece of shit?”
“The Panty Dropper? Who can say? The dark lord also works in mysterious ways. I know that the noise isn’t affecting the performance of the car, such that it is.”
“So what did I do?”
“Turn the radio up.”
“Not an option. Thing’s already on 11.”
“Maybe just think of it as a feature: the Panty Dropper now sounds like a muscle car. Maybe it sounds kinda bad ass.”
“It doesn’t sound bad ass. It sounds like something is wrong. When I pull up somewhere, nobody thinks, ‘Whoa, listen to that bad ass car.’ When I pull up somewhere, people think, ‘Something’s wrong.’”
“That’s not the car…even if you walk up, people think, ‘Something’s wrong.’”
Be that as it may, my car is alerting people to my approach in an unpleasant and inappropriate way. This will not do.
N.P.: “Born to Raise Hell” – Motorhead
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