Every brand that wants to survive this decade has to produce at least one econo-box. The question is, what will the American variant of this one do? My Cotillion sisters tell me that even a Neon—provided it was made by Chrysler, rather than a distant-cousin manufacturer—had that same immediate power I've become addicted to in the Cruiser: everything the car had available was right there, right now. She was able to out-accelerate much more expensive cars, such as Porsches.

And, of course, so am I. I can hold my own against a beamer these days, unless he or she is an awfully good driver.

But I really like fucking with the college-age youts—I let the kids in their souped up Jap imports show me up on the interchanges, and then when we hit the open freeway, I sort of ignore them, move left, and slide by. Their tattoos and whatnot don't help them. They still get to watch the girl spurt off to their left with in a 2.4 four-banger that seems to perform like a V-6 on speed. The driver—invariably a 22-year-old with an oversized black earring in his left ear—generally seems chagrined.

I still think the Daimler thing was a bad fit, so I have high hopes for the new owners. After all, they might just let a MoPar be a MoPar. What could be better than that?

I'm trying to move A the H in the direction of the Chrysler 300, rather than the Lexus he's flirting with. I'm really terrifically subtle, though, so I doubt that he's noticed the working of my gentle mind-rays . . .

My ex used to tell me that "Subtlety" was my "first, last, and middle name." You can see immediately that it would take terrific mental discipline to resist my benificent, yet persistent, will.

Aw, come on, Honey: I'm right about this one. It had to happen sometime, you know.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 05:00 AM | Comments (10) | Add Comment
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