When I die, bury me in my Volvo…
Photo courtesy of Kenji Yamada.
Originally posted 9.9.2004
Your car isn’t called Christine, then.
Many lives have been created in the back seat.
Do not park on yellow lines or you will be fine. Maybe also toad.
But it’s tired of life; in fact it’s exhausted.
Sounds like the driving schools around my area
And grows bigger by the day.
… but not as we know it, Jim.
In the case of my car, it’s more of a near-death experience.
Well, I guess a car interior is more spacious than some Japanese apartments…
You can’t get to heaven in a Ford Coupe,
You’ve got to go in a Chevrolet.
That’s car life one fkucing fine after another.
She: Take me for a ridie in your car car.
He: Get in the back seat.
He: Why not?
She: Because i want to be in the front seat with you.
Really? Even when your car has gas?
My car runs on alcohol.
Not so strange – so do I.
CH3CH2OH in a beautiful substance known a Scotch Whisky.
Do dheagh shlàinte….Marum. (McCat)
Or as it is getting close to the end of the year:
The Hogmanay greeting:
Guest, wi a lump of coal. “Lang may yer lums reek.”
Me: “Aye. Wi another mon’s coal.”
Translation: Long may your chimney smoke. ie May you live long and prosper.
Haste ye back, we loue you dearly,
Call again you’re welcome here.
May your days be free from sorrow,
And your friends be ever near.
May the paths o’er which you wander,
Be to you a joy each day.
Haste ye back we loue you dearly,
Haste ye back on friendship’s way.
(As sung by andy Stewart)