I can't remember when did it started, or why it started, how it happened, who is the culprit, but somewhere in the way me, the Ultimate Europe-Lover, all about European Products (which I still am, in a way), started leaning towards the good ol' American stuff. I would be happy to say that it was because Barack Obama won the elections, but I really think it comes from before him. Maybe it was Supernatural and their all-American wrap (even if the boys are anything but wholesome, which is far from me to object), or me watching one too many Iron Chef America or Diners Drive-ins and Dives (or Triple D) eps, but the thing is that one day I found that I like and prefer and chose American goodies. (My taste in man, however, invariably leans towards the old Continent. What can I say? European men are just so much better!) This is how instead of leaning for a nice Citroen C3 as I had orginally imagined (no Italian cars, and I've my reserves with the German cars, however French... well, everything that's French is just goooooooooood), I was leaning towards American Muscle. The Impala came as a natural result of Supernatural, but then, movie by movie, I was introduced with other breathtaking beauties.
Their beauty, however, does seem to be in the eye of the beholder, as talking with my Boo this weekend, it turned out that he finds most of my favored cars just horrible. (Currently he's planning on selling the one car responsible of me falling in love with him - yeah, risky move - and fantasizes about getting an old, classic Mercedes - his car gara be German. I already teased him telling him that he may want to get Adolf Hitler's wheels.) A car I fell in love with thanks to XXX: State of the Union, the graceful, slick, smooth, manly, suave '67 Pontiac GTO seemed to him ugly, disproportionate, shapeless and with unfitting wheels. Dude, it's a '67 GTO, pimped up, sprayed down with orange-to-purple chamaleon paint, a patented type of unique car paint developped by West Coast Customs, thank you very much, and chrome 22 inch rims. It's a work of beauty, it's an art monument. Just sitting inside must be a religious experience. I mean, if you are good, when you die you go into a GTO. Well, us, we go to the GTO, not my Boo.
Great cars are many, and sure nowadays one of these gas-sucking darlings isn't the smartest move one can make, but... aren't they just beautiful? Don't they look as if they were made of angels? Take for instance this astonishing cherry painted Mustang. Looks like too much snout for a two door car, but does that take from the beauty of it? Sure it will be a pain in the ass to park her in a car crowded city, and I certainly can't imagine her turning into some of the narrow alleys and streets that cobweb Budapest. Stripped from nose to rear, across the hood like the classic racing models, or smooth, shiny like this cherry up there. I mean, wow. Do you know that "pretty please with a cherry on top"? Well, that's the cherry I fall for.
I don't have a car, nor I have really had a car so far, which is odd for many people. The way things look up, I think I'll have my car in Hungary, not here, and so the chances for me to have an American car, and American Sweetheart, as some would say, and quite slim. I mean, how on Earth would I get my pawns on one of them? They are beautiful, amazing, but the way things develop, they will only remain in my heart as an unfulfilled desire. Maybe, maybe one day.... :-)
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