The Real Car Talk: Confessions of a Slutty Toyota Scion. Part 5
Una Does Del Ray
Find Part 1 here. Missed Part 4? It’s here.
Una returned from her wild night with Elantra, Maxima (aka Slinki and Kinki) and Z royally fucked out and totally fucked up. The velvet seat covers from Carotica were over layered with goo. Her tire pressure looked low; her fluids too, probably. And there was sand, lots of it, coating her velvet floor mats. Una had totally sexpended herself and now she was exhausted, drained and not a little cantankerous.
After I’d had enough of hearing her — and her engine’s — whining, the tow guy was duly called. There was hardly an inch of her that didn’t need TLC in the form of a 26-point inspection, air for those tires and of course, some heavy detailing. A few hours at the car spa, along with several high octane smoothies from Hot Wheels and a couple of fuel injector shots had done their job. As we headed out of Del Ray toward I-95 north, Una was back to her chipper self and more than ready to tell me all.
“When I finally got to our meeting place — an underground parking garage — Z rolled up, flashed her brights and led me the rest of the way down to where Slinki and Kinki were waiting. Again my motor was racing, only faster now. My manifold chimed in and as I slowed while coming closer to them I could feel my condensation trickling onto the cement. No way was I backing out on this party. If Siri or that Waze guy was going to warn me of trouble on this road, I would have told them to stuff it.”
Good for you, my impulsive Silver Slut, always geared up for action.
Una emitted a sharp honk of affirmation. “Within moments Slinki was at my driver side and Kinki on my passenger side. And there at my hatchback was that hot little tailgater, Z. All four of us flung our doors, trunks, hoods open at the same and in we all rushed, our brights gleaming with lust. Our dashes looked like, what’s that big street up north??
Uhh, Times Square?
“That. Our gauges soared. Our fluids flew everywhere. Our directional sticks were jacking. Our alarms screamed on and off for hours. Then we backed up, realigned and did it bumper to bumper to bumper.”
Wow, a vehicular daisy chain. Sweet….Hey, I gotta ask you something, Una. What was up with all that sand on your floor? I mean we track plenty of sand down here in Florida but that was ridiculous. What did you do, girlfriend, have a hookup with a dump truck?
Una’s motor revved up and down anxiously as she searched for the best way to answer me. After a few moments, she came out with it. Or rather she led up to it little by little. And I was all ears.
“That spicy Miss Z wanted to have a pileup in Pompano Beach and we all sped off after her. When we got there we rolled down our windows, cruised a bit and finally parked on the hard sand for a while, letting our temperature gauges come down before plunging back into it. While we were idling, some hunky surfer ragtops — a Mustang, a ‘Vette and a T-bird — wheeled over to check out the action. Slinki, Z and I flashed our brights on each other first to show them how hot we looked, and once Slinki turned her Xenons on them, they were our toys.
And what did Kinki have to say about that? He sounds pretty alpha to take on you three femcars by himself.
“Kinki, played it cool by flicking his dome light on then off. His way of accepting them in. Even with all his horsepower, he’d been gunning his motor so hard servicing the three of us, he was going to need serious servicing at his dealership if he didn’t ease up. Like he said, rest is better than rust.”
Good motto. Gotta remember that one. So how did it play out with those beach buggies?
“Turns out those vehicles are a high performance convertible act at Overdrive — Maverick Mustang and the Raunchy Ragtops. That really got our rpm’s up. When we invited them to do their thing just for us and spritzed some of our wiper fluids at them, they gunned their motors, hard. T-Bird’s sound system played the Beach Boys [what else?], Slinki hit her Xenon’s and that bachelor band showed us all their muscle car moves.”
Yeah? Such as…? Now my thoughts were racing and my pulse was getting pretty revved itself.
“Like shimmying their ragtops up and down, then flinging them off to reveal their leather bucket seats and buck naked steering wheels. Not a faux fur cover in the bunch.” Una flicked her wipers and blinked her hazards at the recollection.
“That really set us three hardtops off. And when each of them piled on each of us, all our sensors lit up and our horns totally shrieked. Being older models with great maintenance histories, the luxurious madam Slinki, that hottie sport coupe Z and zippy low-mileage me were Mercury Cougars for the rest of the night.”
Well, good for all of you! I said, slapping her playfully on her trunk lid. Then I paused and took a breath. I had to know. “Now, girlfriend, what about that sand?”
“Okay okay. After those hunks finished us off — leaving us with a glow no amount of detailing could match — they wheeled back to their garage to hose down. Kinki was still idling where we’d left him. By then we were about as wipered out as it gets. All we wanted to do was honk Kinki to restart his engine and lead us back to his and Slinki’s garage. As I wheeled around to follow them, I felt my wheels going deeper and deeper into the sand until I stalled out. I honked at them but they couldn’t pick it up cause the ocean drowned out my horn. Since your iPhone was still in the cup holder I did what had to be done. So I told Siri to find a tower. A good slut’s gotta know how to take care of herself or she’ll turn into scrap metal fast.”
“Hey ya know what, Una? You did the right thing. I like your philosophy.” To which my silver slut giggled a honk and saluted me with a flick of her wipers.
We were back on I-95 now, heading north. Una still had more to tell me about her past. Plenty more.
Had Una tamed a wild Ford Bronco? Had she fallen under the spell of a Chevy Avalanche? Had she scaled the peaks of sex with a Mercury Mountaineer? We can only wonder.
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