My Chick Magnet (well...if the chicks were blind) | Mental Poo

Thursday, November 01, 2007

My Chick Magnet (well...if the chicks were blind)

Once you got it going…it was almost drivable.

We bought a new car this weekend. This new car got me thinking about my old cars.

You already heard about my lightning car (Rowdy) – but I’ve owned a lot of crap since then.

For instance…

When it became apparent that a 1970 Oldsmobile with 400 horsepower wouldn’t exactly work as a commuting car to college, my dad and I went shopping.

We came home with a Vette.


A Chevy Chevette.

If you’re fairly young, and not familiar with the Chevy Chevette, think of it as a modern-day scooter, with a hideous metal enclosure for shelter. Compared to a scooter it had much worse reliability, and about the same pickup. Actually, I think most scooters are faster.

My Chevette was a short, silver number…with an all red vinyl interior.

The ladies swooned.

Not really.

About a month or so into ownership of this beauty, I realized the trouble it was going to cause me.

I live in New England, where it tends to get cold. Very cold.

This is unfortunate if your car’s interior is basically plastic…as anything heavier than a sponge sitting on said frozen red vinyl tends to cause cracks and tears and San Andreas-sized fault lines across your seats and dashboard (a.k.a., Chevette "character lines").

It’s also unfortunate if your car is a giant piece of dogsh*t…as a dogsh*t vehicle doesn’t like to (a) start in the cold, or (b) continue to run in the cold.

In order to start my car in the morning, I needed to keep the thing revved at the redline. After fifteen minutes of pegging my gas pedal without actually going anywhere (you can thank me for single-handedly destroying the ozone in the late eighties), I would be able to actually let the thing idle and continue on my way.

The problem is that when it’s 5 degrees outside, I don’t want to actually SIT in the car doing this. It’s hard enough seeing my tiny balls as it is…I don’t need the added shrinkage factor to add to my self-esteem issues.

With my ingenuity kicking in, I’d take a car-scraper (for those of you in the Southern states, this is basically a giant barbecue spatula we use up here for carving ice off of our cars), and would extend it to about three feet. After starting my car, I would take said scraper and wedge it between the gas pedal and my driver’s seat…thus flooring the accelerator and allowing me to get back inside the house, where I could once again see my balls.

Adding insult to injury was the fact that even with the car running, and sometimes actually DRIVING, it would sometimes decide it just wanted to stop.

The first time I ran into this, where my car spontaneously decided it had enough of driving for one day, I thought I was running out of gas.

I was driving down the road, when the car started sputtering. The gas tank said it was half full, but it certainly felt like I was running out of gas.

Not believing my gas gauge, I reached past the steering wheel and flicked the plastic window in front of the gas gauge to see if it was stuck.


It didn’t move.

I did it again.


At this point, the gas needle broke off and landed on the inside of the dash behind the window.

Motherf*cker. What kind of quality do you have when the simple act of flicking your dashboard can break part of it? This is why I buy foreign.

Anyway, this began my adventures of “how much gas do I have in the Chevette?” and “...think I’ll make it?”

Good times…good times…

Anyway…with broken gas gauge and sputtering car, I would drive with one of my friends the 35 miles each way to school in the morning. Sometimes, my car would simply start sputtering at stop lights and would eventually die until I restarted it.

I found that the only way to fix this BEFORE it died, was to stop and restart it as soon as I felt the sputters. A pain, yes…but it worked…for a while.

One afternoon, we were coming home from school on the highway, doing about 50 (top speed in this car). It had just snowed a few days before, and the highway was piled on the sides with 4-foot snowbanks.

…then I felt it…the car started…shaking…


..ah..crap…it was stalling…


The first thing that came to mind, was to shut the car off and turn it back on.

So I reached down, grabbed the key, and shut the car off.

At the exact moment that I clicked the key to the “OFF” position, I knew I did something wrong.

I only remember my friend faintly looking at me as I was reaching down to shut it off and starting to say, “What are you….?”

Mind you…I’m on the highway doing 50 miles per hour.

…it’s at this point, with the car off, that the wonderful little device known as the “Steering Wheel Lock” kicked in.

…and locked my steering wheel 30 degrees to the right.


With the car no longer aimed straight ahead and now locked into it’s new trajectory, we immediately shot off the side of the highway...and straight into a snowbank…doing 50 miles an hour.


I can only imagine what this looked like from behind. A perfectly straight road…plowed...clear blue skies. And the car in front takes a sharp right hand turn for no apparent reason and crashes into a pile of snow.

Snow everywhere…my face implanted in my cracked red vinyl steering wheel…I sat up and looked at the entire front end of my car buried in the snow.

And then felt the swift smack on the back of my head from my buddy in the passenger seat.

Lip bit, head smacked, and utterly embarrassed, I turned the key.

And that bitch started right up and drove home without a single other blip. The car was towed from my house at my expense shortly thereafter.

…but I kept the gas gauge needle just to spite it.


Sara Sue said...

I'm curious ... what kind of car will your son get when he heads off to college??

Biscuit said...

Did we date?! I know I did time in a car like that.

Describe the back seat, and then I can tell you for sure...

Moooooog35 said...

My son will be getting a Yugo.

But I'll sign him up for AAA, so he should be all set.

Biscuit: Maybe. Not is primarily all blurry. Here is the description of the back seat of the Chevette:

Red. Giant cracks in it. Foam sticking out. Legroom for 1/2 midget.

Skryker said...

Ah, yes-a Shove-it! My 1st and 2nd year roommate had a red Chevette. To quote Ferris Bueller, I had to be envious of her piece of crap because I didn't even have a piece of crap car, after my Plymouth Horizon lost its brakes just as I was approaching a red light.

It's a wonder anyone survives university. If the drinking doesn't get you, your car might.

Emmy said...

I bet you PULLED lots of chicks ;)

Tequila Mockingbird said...

this sorta reminds me of my first car, a souped up toyota celica that was *almost* older than me. sometimes it like to stop working when i happened to be in thet ghetto. i'm fortunate i never got a rapin' because of that fucking car.

Baba Doodlius said...

Shoulda kept the '70 Olds. I seem to recall a particular '68 Dodge that was the only thing on the street that would start on the first crank even on the coldest day of the year. So what if the brakes, steering, and electical system were flaky and pieces would fall off when you slammed the doors too hard?

Cash said...

Stupid Hu-Mans!
I don't need cars.
Give me a pack of my minions & I'm set.


Anonymous said...

The only reason your cars were chick magnets was because you always needed a few behind them pushing the hunk of junks!

LOL love the last photo! ha ha

The Sports Mama said...

Reminds me of my first car: a 1974 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. Had a giant hole in the floor on the passenger side, reminiscent of the Flintstone-mobile. :)

e said...

I hope that you don't mind but I used your post as inspiration for my post at

I wrote about my first car Isabelle

whatagem said...

Three cars ago, I drove with a bad fuel pump for about six months. Sitting at red lights, stop signs, etc with one foot on gas, the other foot on brake was a great way to pass the time. (had to keep it running while still being stopped)

Long red lights just flew by as thoughts of "Am I gonna die today?" raced through my feeble mind.

More than a few times my foot would accidentally slip off the brake. Better than a roller coaster! What a rush!

prin said...

Sexy. I think I saw you stalled, holding up traffic the other day. lol

I did the same thing with the scraper, only it was for the brake when my handbrake died. :D Great minds, eh? lol

A Girl, A Boy, and Me said...

I refused a free working silver chevette when I turned 17. I ended up saving money and buying a used blue crx when I was 18.

There ARE times you can pass up free.

Bruce, a work in progress said...

Ah yes, I remember the Shit-vette. Had a friend or two that had one. I too had used the winter-time ice scraper on the gas pedal. It beats freezing you ass off while the car heats up.

Sorry I haven't been around much. I'm just catching up on your blog. For some reason my network at the office finds something on your blog offensive and it won't load the page. In fact it causes Internet Explorer to shut down. Damn government computer system. How do they ecpect me to fuck off if I can't load the blogs?

Eve said...

Love the last picture and how you described an ice scraper for those of us who live in the south. My first car was crap too but I loved it.

Malach the Merciless said...

This one is for you too Homey!

Anonymous said...

I had a Chevy Chevette. That little car never gave me one little bit of trouble. I'm thinking there is more to this story. How did you break it?

Anonymous said...

I just found your blog - TFF (too f***ing funny, I know you hate license plate code)! Jeebus I have laughed my ass off at this story, the story about your vasectomy (sorry to your boys)and burning the village after you cut the supply lines tells me your doc was former military. Anyway, I've linked to you in my blogroll and blogged about your site. Expect to see other inbred southerners up here takin' a look-see! And, yes, OBTW, Papelbon is pretty close to God. They both answer if you call the name.

robr said...

Reminds me of the time with Jack G. driving my Daytona Shelby Z down route 495 at 80mph with me kneeling on the back bumper hanging onto the wing. I had run out of gas, got a ride to the gas station and back with a gallon can, got the car stated again by push starting it, but Jack thought I was getting a ride to the gas station from the people who helped us. He didn't realize I had jumped on to the back bumper. Did I mention I was hammered? Boy that exit ramp was pretty scary!!

footiam said...

I like this picture of the car. Downloading it for future bloggging! And I would like to tag you too for a meme if you don't mind: Green Thumb Sunday, check in my beautiful world,

Anonymous said...

Very cute... poo-poo!!!

Joeprah said...

I love your intentionally crappy photo shopped pics. They are lol funny just cause. Great story...again.

PC-Brain said...


Great story. I share your pain. I owned 3 of the Shove-Vettes. Each had its own magic. The one I remember most is the one that was blue. Every time I shut off the car it would go..put..put..gurgle..put.. then there would be a long pause and then boom!. This process lasted for 5 months. At the six month I had to start the Vette using starting fluid. One too many times with the fluid I set the car's engine a blaze. I had to quickly towel out the fire and the car no longer worked.

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