I drive my Mom’s car. She knows, it’s not like I sneak into her garage every night and drive off. Every morning, Linda Pantzer, wants to go get some coffee, “Damn it, that boy’s been here again!” Shakes her old fist, sagging skin flapping in the breeze.
Actually, it’s not her car. Not anymore. She gave it to me. Am I loser? You tell me, I’m a 42-year-old man who got a hand me down car from my mother. And it was an upgrade, an 05 Pacifica with 150,000 miles on it.
How could that not be attractive to women? “Hey, baby, wanna take a ride in my Mom’s car? Smells like polyester and Aqua Net. Play your cards right and I’ll take you to bingo, where you can play your cards right.”
