The other day, as I drove around and frequented car lots for what would be my next automobile, I got to thinking about all the "Hoopties" that I have had. What is a "Hooptie" you ask? Well, it is a car that could be described as a "rust bucket", a car that you wouldn't be entering in any car shows any time soon, a car that's repairs exceed the amount of the worth of the car. (The term was actually popularized by Sir Mix-alot in the song "My Hooptie", hence the title of this post.) Yep, that's a "Hooptie"! Here are a few that I have had in my lifetime. By all means, share some stories of "Hoopties" you have had in the comment section, feel free.(Disclaimer: The image of the cars provided don't accurately depict the condition the car was when I drove it.)
1981 Cutlass: This was my first car so it has a special place in my heart. Of course the car that I had wasn't in good as shape as the picture I provided, actually it was pretty rusted and in desperate need of a paint job. I remember being quite ashamed of it at the time, but as I look back it was a pretty kick ass car when I think about it. For one thing it was a T-top, so driving by beautiful women while blasting Biz Markie as my bald fade blew in the wind was a every day summer occurrence. Also, since my father was a master mechanic, he put a high performance engine in that rust bucket so I was able to beat all my friends who all had new cars and wanted to test my Cutlass. This was also was the first car that I eluded police in, speeding down a deserted countryside with my lights off, hoping I wouldn't meet my demise. The backseat was pretty spacious as well, so I had numerous escapades of miscellaneous sex back there. The memories are unforgettable, but this car met its untimely demise because I didn't put oil in it like I was supposed to so the engine locked up. I almost shed a tear as my father had that car hauled off to the junkyard, then he gave me an awkward look as I uttered "Goodbye old friend" under my breath.
1991 Chevrolet Spectrum: This was a very strange car because it was exactly like the Isuzu-Imark. It was a undeniable piece of crap, that gave me problems through most of my college years. For one thing, the backseat was so small that there wasn't any vehicular love going on back there. Also, the car would shut off sometimes for no reason, and it would have a mind of its own because it wouldn't start back up until a half hour later. This happened when I was on a date with this fine ass girl named Christy, you know you have a fucked up car when you have some chick giving you bullshit advice like "pour some soda on the battery!" I had to call a friend of mine to take Christy home, which he gladly did, because I am certain that he got to know Christy "biblically" because of my horseshit car. There is another interesting tidbit concerning the Spectrum. I read somewhere that the Chevy Spectrum was one of the easiest cars in the world to steal, which I found as a "fun fact" until it was stolen 3 times in the span of 4 months. This one time it was stolen, the robbers had actually attempted to steal the radio, but when they saw that it was a piece of crap they left it on the passenger seat.
1986 Cougar: Every time I see a Cougar nowadays I want to light it on fire, or roll that motherfucker in a ditch somewhere. I know that I shouldn't take my rage out of all cougars since mine was a specific piece of crap, but the issues that I had with it were many. For one thing, no matter how many times I got it fixed, it seemed to leak transmission fluid on a regular basis. The running joke with my friends at the time was, "You want to know where the HumanityCritic is going, just follow the trail!" It was embarrassing, it got even more unbearable when my car suddenly lacked the ability to go in reverse. Driving around in a parking lot for minutes, trying to find a spot that I could "pull out of" and not "back out of" was basically pathetic. Those few times that I found myself having to back out of a parking spot, or back up because I was too far into an intersection, I would throw my foot out Flinstones-style and manually back-up. Nothing says "loser" more than a man using his left foot as a reverse function.
1972 Nova: This was supposed to be my "fixer-upper", but sheer laziness set in, so this car was a rolling piece of shit the entire time I drove it. For one thing the car needed a engine badly, so anyone who dared to get behind me while I drove it found themselves in a proverbial smoke cloud.(It was funny to see people race besides me, screaming "Get your motherfucking car fixed asshole!!") I was also dating a girl who had a crazed ex-boyfriend while I drove the Nova, so when he put 6 bullet holes in the driver side door it was kind of like a badge of honor for me.(For Christs sake, if you are going to make a statement at least let me be IN the car while you are filling it full of holes. That would of gotten his message across better.) The funniest part about the whole bullet-hole thing is when my father grabbed both sides of my face, and said with a stern look on his face, "What exactly are you into son?? You can tell me." This car met its demise when it caught fire on the side of a interstate on hot summer day. Looking back the fire was pretty small and probably could have been contained. BUT, if I learned anything from watching poorly produced cop shows in the 70's and 80's, it is that you vacate the premises if your car is on fire because that fucker will blow up any second. It did blow up, but not in a Hollywood fashion though. When the fire department showed up and put out the fire, a fireman asked me, "What are these, bullet holes?? What exactly are you into?" I had to laugh at that.