The Real Car Talk: Confessions of a Slutty Toyota Scion
Part 2
Una speed dating those Big Daddies in hopes of some Escalade escapades. Will one be her sugar Caddy? Photo: The author.
Read Part 1 here.
Una Gears Up
Our first stop is Ft Lauderdale where I treat Una to an afternoon at the car spa. While she rolls off for some serious pampering, I ask Siri for the nearest coffee shop I can walk to. She finds one right behind the car spa, so I stroll over there. Coffee would be good. Someone to flirt with while having it, better.
Java Plus is crowded but I find a table next to a man pecking away on his laptop. He pauses to drink his cordito , so I strike up a conversation. When that gets old about 10 minutes in, I stroll the few blocks to Trader Joe’s but it’s a little too early for the professionals to show. Which gets me thinking. Una pulls it all off so effortlessly, Not that she hasn’t taken her lumps. She just never gives up.
While we were on the road, Una had revealed that her forays into online dating had thus far proved fruitless.
“They lie!” she cried, her tires screeching to a scary near halt on the Sunshine Expressway as traffic flew by, some of the vehicles giving Una curious glances. “About everything. Their model year, their repair history. How many previous owners. How much work they need done on them. Disgusting. Simply disgusting.”
Aiming to comfort her, I offered Una a reminder. Hey at least they can’t lie about their mileage, it’s illegal, right?
“Right. But they still try to hide it from me. Like there was this Honda FIT whose profile said he was a 2014 with low mileage, and raring to get it on.” She paused to collect herself, a good thing as we were exiting the highway. Once we were off the ramp and idling at a light she continued.
“So we arranged to meet up at a body shop and hoist a few fuel injector cleaner shots. All the autos are doing them since they were featured on Dr. Nozzle. But as he rolled up I could see instantly that for a FIT he was anything but. His finish was crap, his rear bumper had a mean dent, he was pockmarked with rust and you know what was the worst? His dome was totally dropped. But totally. Yuck. And check this, he had the gall to say that I looked so well preserved for my age because I must have been garaged in a meat locker!”
I rolled my eyes. Uh, honey what about that late model hotrod you were all for hooking up with? I asked Una gently, not wanting to upset her any more than she already was.
“Elusive as Big Foot. Always off at some drag race or whatever. Staying under the radar. Studs like that are always scared some foxy little coupe will try to make them settle down and raise bumper cars. Not to mention having to watch Herbie movies for the ten thousandth time. Anyway they never message back. Probably wipered left. I’m done. No more online for this girl, thank you very much.”
You got it, Miss Una xxxA Scion, I said, giving her a wink, to which she flicked her rear blade with a cute little squirt of washer fluid.
When I returned to pick her up at the car spa, Una was already parked outside. She looked radiant. Her silver exterior was waxed and polished to a luminous inner glow. Her windows and lights gleamed. Her black interior was fresh and clean. Now refreshed, she was ready for some action.
When I remarked how nice and slick her rims looked, she shot back, “You want a hot rim job, ya gotta have hot rims, right?” giving me a sly flash of her brights.
Si señorita. Hey what more could I say.
Then we were back on the road, heading to Del Ray Beach. Una got suddenly quiet, so I pulled over and plugged in my earbuds to enjoy some of my favorite road music. By the time the traffic parted enough to let us back on, my head was filled with Eric Clapton and BB King. It wasn’t to last long. Somewhere on the periphery of “Riding with the King” come strains of an intense female voice against a driving rhythm. WTF?? The windows were up. The radio was off. Plus no Bluetooth. This shit is weirding me out.
I yank out the buds to be met by the full force of Mary J Blige singing “My Loving” off her Strength of a Woman cd. At the same time Una starts accelerating though my pressure on the pedal has not changed one jot. Now we’re doing almost 90, dammit.
Una! What’s up with this? I think you have some ‘splainin to do. I’m shouting now but Miss Silver Scion remains unperturbed.
“Oh, just a little retrofit music thingy I found at the spa. They have the coolest aftermarket boutique.”
Now hold on, babe. You better chill those RPMs and clean up that mist on your rear window or we’ll have Mr. Cop Car up your tailpipe. Yeah I know. That’s just where you’d like him, too. And sure enough as I check the rearview I can see him way back. He’d be gaining on us in a heartbeat. My breath freezes. Mentally I’m repeating mantras when Una cuts in.
“Oooh I LOVE flashers! And he’s a Chevy Impala. They’re fast workers.”
I shoot Una a look.
“Close on in now, Officer Impala, you can impale Una Scion anytime, honey. I’ll be your little four-door whore.”
I tighten my grip on Una’s wheel and, getting the hint, she slows back down to a civil 70. Still I brace myself. The police vehicle is now about two cars back — then abruptly changes lanes to speed off after some other perp.
Thank you, girlfriend, I said, letting out a huge sigh. Now what would you have said if that police car had actually pulled us over?
“What are you gonna do, arrest me?”
Shit, Una….Hey do you know how to dirty talk to your guy or what.
“Well I’m super into those first responders with the big chassis. Did I tell you about the time I spent the night at the fire station?”
Maybe later, babe. I’m kinda played out right now. How ‘bout let’s just listen to Miss Blige?
Thankfully Una agrees and on we roll to Del Ray Beach and beyond.
Will Una the Scion xxxA become the Slut of South Florida? One can only hope.
