Saturday, August 9, 2008

It's Graverobber Tirade Friday!

Graverobber has been a regular PCH Tirade™ machine in recent weeks, and we thought it would be convenient for all PCHT™ aficionados to see his greatest hits all together in one convenient location. That way you can approach the prospect of your personal Hell Project with the knowledge that you might end up much like one of the victims in Graverobber's vivid (yet no doubt accurate) imagination.

Aston Martin DB5 vs Jensen FF

Jensen FF. The Aston, even in this condition the Aston is worth some scratch. There were only 1,021 DB5s ever produced, and today they can go for six figures. As a wise man once said: "Thars gold in them thar hills!" so you might be able to even eke out a profit, but probably not. You would earn the respect of other Aston owners and auto enthusiasts for being a respectful steward of the car, and saving it from ruination.
So, the Jensen FF. FF, Ferguson Formula. First all-wheel-drive production car. Gotta' be worth something right? And this one seems pretty intact, the fact that it is being consigned by an expert on the brand is a good sign, isn't it? Jeepers, you should just face the fact now that buying this car is a one-way trip to the poor house. And you ain't gonna be getting there in the Jensen.

There's now way in hell that this car is ever going to be valued at more than what you'd have to put into it just to avoid having Nelson Muntz wannabes point at you and shout "Ha-ha."

You'd go through your vacation fund, pissing off the rest of your family who really did want to go see that civil war reenactment, and it wouldn't be done. You'd blow through your oldest kid's college fund and he'd just stare at you, all puffy haired, and zit-faced and cry. Still, it wouldn't be done.

You'd cash in those bonds that your aunt Eunice gave you for being such a good boy on your birthdays all those years ago, and it still wouldn't be done.

Your wife would start feeding the family generic hamburger helper without cheese, substituting plain-wrap cat food without telling anyone, and still the shop would call every week and ask for another check.

When you finally run out of money, and get banned from eBay for trying to sell a kidney, you tell them that they'll have to stop working on it. You'd then get a bill for the storage.

Pulling out your hair, you decide to sell the thing, but your so far in debt with the shop that they won't let any prospective buyers in to see the car. You offer it to them and the owner's eyes get really big and he says "thanks, but I already have an ulcer."

At your wits end, and soon to be evicted from your house, you concoct a plan to burn down the shop, and the car within. The insurance money will cover your debt with the shop owner, and you can move to a different state, change your name and start anew.

The plan goes off without a hitch except that you find out that the shop has moved the Jensen out into the yard to make room for cars not owned by deadbeats, and it is the only thing left standing. You troubles compound when the source of the fire- a gas can with your name and address on it (damn your wife and her dymo labeler!) is discovered.

You are arrested two days later, hiding on skid row, having attempted to mask your identity by wearing one of your wife's dresses and a wig you stole from Kmart.

The trial is quick, and your public defender inept, but eventually you are relaxing in the county lockup, enjoying the promise of 5 years of three squares a day and free clothes. It's not too bad, and you even are allowed mail every week.

Everything looks like it's finally turning around for your until one day you get a letter from the shop owner- it's a bill for two years of yard storage for the Jensen. And you start thinking you may still have some gold fillings left in your back molars...