Poaching Pandas

My mother cares for me. Deeply.

Therefore, she is quite concerned that I haven’t taken the time to get my  Dodge Intrepid and its rebellious transmission fixed.

At some point in all our phone calls she asks, “Have you taken your car in to the mechanic?”

“Yeah, of course.” I reply.

“Really?”

“No.”

At this point she chides me in the manner I deserve and offers this advice, “Perhaps if you don’t like your car you could invest in a car you do like and will maintain.”

I tell her I love my giant, white, grandpa car. I tell her that as a young boy I put posters of the 2002 Dodge Intrepid up on my walls, placing it above the pictures of Lamborghinis and Ferraris.

However, I’m a good son, so I took her advice and I went out and purchased a small, reliable, sturdy, city car.

You would think that would settle the issue, but Roberta, my wife says that purchasing a Fiat Panda that lives in a country far across the ocean doesn’t count. She adds, “You only own 1/3 of the car anyways.”

You just can’t win with women.

Or with Hans. He will tell you that I haven’t yet paid for my part of the car. Well, joke’s on him! He registered the car under my name!

Life is good now, I have a working car and I didn’t have to pay for it. Just like all the other cars in my life! Thanks Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Hans!

Right now I’m doing what I call the parasite dance. People don’t like it as much as I do, but they still have to put up with it. I own their car!

Roberta is quite excited about the little Fiat Panda, and not just because it is the newest car any of us have ever owned (9 years old). “It’s the cutest car ever! Let’s name it Skogzy!”

Me, I’m not getting too attached to it. It actually looks a little depressed to me, like it knows it has been entered into the car equivalent of the Hunger Games.

Either way, Team Gobi or Go Home has its official Rally Car!