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Primitive Machinery


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I just love driving by some dude in a choppy blue Buick from the early

80's, war-ridden side doors, unbuffed grayed out hood, missing rear left

window, remnants of a half-assed attempt to enclose vehicle during winter

months/duct tape flapping in wind, smoke emanating from somewhere underneath

the chophouse project, indicating evidence the muffler system left the

sorry machine for a pot hole some 10 years ago, and the dude is fully

wearing his Tim McGraw bandana, magic marketed #3 on top of forehead from a

pit crew enthusiast at uncle Jed’s bash last year, tank top with severe

grease stains, 5 o'clock shadow multiplied 3 times over, hand-me-down

bug-eyed Oakley's (or otherwise stolen), singing his heavy heart out to the

beautiful sounds of "PROUD TO BE AN AMERICAN"...flips me the bird as I

pass, takes a swig from brown bag enveloped Laser 40 ounce, spits in the

wind, looks to right, sees blonde-haired chick driving newer BMW, slows

vehicle just enough to ensure perfect parallel positioning so he can

address his newfound love by harassing the blue-eyed model in distress.

Just the tip of the iceberg for this man, half-assed, half-alive,

half-drunk, halfway house blue machine on wheels. Up from the rear comin'

trouble, come competition fer him, another vehicle primed for roadway

warfare, 83 pickup Toyota, tailgate gone (of course), tailpipe slappin'

concrete, off-red body--waaaaaaaay off dude!, 4 empty bottles of MGD toss

to and fro in back--creating a total hazard for anyone wantin' to gate this

puppy, don't forget about the paint-stained work attire in back covered by

various painting utensils, propane tanks poorly fastened to one hole with

bungee cord strapped hurriedly over one another. Dude in the car is bald,

goatee, naked from waste down while wearing Caterpillar’s unlaced, stone

cold Steve Austin t-shirt, 3:16 on back, no radio, no boom box, NO PROBLEM.

Menacing grin as everyone passes...soon the Buick and Toyota will meet,

form a high speed co-op, box in the blonde in BMW, suffocate her attempts to

pass either left or right, then comes Chuck truck driver in the Mayflower

rig baby, a 400 pound man full of booze, pizza, and full-scale accounts of



I was just on my way to work.

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