My Not so New Favourite Shiny Car

Everyone has a favourite car. It doesn't matter if you are a hippie, with an outward love of an ironic people mover that manifested itself out of Nazi Germany, or a complete rev head that has to paint his 458 kilowatt 6.7 litre, supercharged V8 a shade of pink that would make the Mardi Gras jealous. For each and every one of us there is a car that we want and secretly need. Here are some examples:

• The Dalai Lama could cross the sub-continent on bare feet, but I am sure he would love to do it in a Tata Nano and really stick it to the Chinese
• Arnold Schwarzenegger, famous for his role in the movie Predator and nothing else, brought the Hummer into popular culture - a car with a reputation for violating trees and burning the evidence with raw coal, hippies and coral. He really wanted to import the Humber (my dad had one, therefore it is cool). Unfortunately people in Carlifaunya found his accent confusing and decided on a car made for serious military applications and suburban wankers. Arnie was so distraught and emotional he went and made movies about being pregnant and the end of the world in the future, which is really the past and is caused by machines. What?
  
• John Howard likes cars because he discovered them three days ago when he finally pulled his head out of George Bush's arse. He apparently likes humming, not Humbers.
  
• Kevin Rudd likes cars because they can be insulated, and they burn oil. His outward and open favourite is the Prius, but secretly he prefers anything made by Learjet.
• Paris Hilton likes the Hummer too. Apparently it was so 'like, yesterday'.

We all have a car, and mine is ths one:

This is the Dodge Challenger. It is made from sex, chocolate and the biggest, fattest, dirtiest Barossa Shiraz ever made. It also has a bit of chili beef jerky stuck between the front teeth. It eats Hot Dogs from a corner-diner and drinks beer with a bourbon/tabasco chaser. Apparenly corners are being phased out in 17 States because of this car's inability to accept the fact that it has to compromise power for practicality.

One of my first memories is of when I was about my son's age; 2-3 years old to be precise. I was in the back of Mum and Dad's Honda Civic at the Narrabundah Drive In watching Star Wars. Aside from gaining an infatuation with Darth Vader, I remember thinking 'I can't believe I am at a drive-in movie, in the late 70's in a fucking Honda Civic. I mean, seriously Dad, what happened to the Humber, and why didn't you upgrade to a SRT-8 friggin Challenger?' My thoughts followed on eventually to 'geez, Darth Vader would have bought a Challenger, I mean, he cut off his own son's hand! That is pure dedication...' I went to sleep in the underwhelmingly proportioned back seat, breathing with great, profound depth.

My Mazda Astina recently blew up. It is dead. It is an ex-parrot. It has ceased to exist.

I told my lovely, patient wife that I needed a new car, and the safest option was something akin to an Abrams tank that could get out of sticky situations through sheer power. If needed. You know, for the safety of the kids...

I have to find a new favourite car. Apparently.

The Dreameth Hath Endetheth