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car of the night: what would vinny barbarino drive?

Someone emailed and asked that I devote one night to the Trans Am. Here you go.

Back in the day I had this friend Vinny. You know Vinny. Muscle shirt, tight jeans (we're talking circa 1977 here, so I'm sure the jeans were of the designer variety), white sneakers, a little too much body hair and a penchant for saying shit like "what the fuck you lookin at?" Vinny walked with a swagger, talked with his hands and had a feigned accent ripped off straight from John Travolta in Welcome Back, Kotter. He liked his girls pretty and vacant, drank malt liquor, smoked no filter Camels, spit on the ground every ten seconds and had the IQ of a hubcap.


Vinny drove a Trans Am. Every Vinny in America drove a Trans Am during that time. And they all spent every Saturday washing and waxing their cars and Saturday night cruising up and down the highway leering at girls in tube tops and challenging random people to races or fights as if they were living some modernized version of American Graffiti. And on Sunday they would stumble out to the driveway and pop open the hood and spend the whole day pretending to be actually doing something to the car while a few neighborhood girls gathered in Vinny's driveway to admire his muscles and his ability to look like he knew how to work it under the hood when all he was really doing was fondling the dipstick. Ocassionaly he would stop to adjust his balls and take a swig of warm beer and spit on the ground and say something like "Hey, Theresa babe, why don't you run your cute little ass into the garage and grab me another brew?"

One day I had a fight with Vinny about his car. I argued that my dream car (the 70 Chevelle) was a far superior automobile. I told him that the Trans Am was for suburban mamma's boys who listened to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and, from what I heard, had a serious problem with dropping the clutch a bit too early, if you know what I mean. I explained that the Chevelle was the Yankees and the Trans Am was the Mets. He started to defend himself again and I cut him off.

"Dude. You have a fucking bird on your car."

I hope my emailing Trans Am fan is satisfied.

Van Halen - Runnin With the Devil
Ozzy Osbourne - Mama I'm Coming Home
MDC - Dick for Brains

Previous cars:
69 Camaro
70 Mustang Mach I
Ford Galaxie 500
74 Dodge Challenger
70 Chevelle and 72 Barracuda


hey i knew that guy too. Those guys all turned into Carl.

the screaming chicken

Hehe, you are so right.

Right up there with the 1975 Camaro Z-28 with the fiberglass body and T-top. Too much power for it's weight and it had a habit of leaving he road on turns and the slightest bump. My friend Mike drove his Mom's and paid the insurance by delivering pizza...in the Camaro!!!

My terminally immature heavy pot-smoking aunt used to drive a pink Firebird Trans Am, which I thought was just the coolest thing in the world when I was like 10.

My cousin had a TA just like that, his brother had a Stingray... (my brother and I) had a '68 Dodge Rambler in "Olive Drab" paint. ;)

I had a '79 Camaro
was a Z-28
and the pedal always kissed the floor.
We used to go out looking for the Pontiacs
With the bird across the engine door.
Now me and Manny, my favorite spic
used to wonder what we did it for
and Manny decided, "hey Rojo?

see http://007google.com/SmallVictory.aspx

the eerie thing about Carl is that, if you add a sort of Matt Dillon circa 1982 hairstyle, he DOES look exactly like someone one of my ex's hung out with. Right down to the sweats and no shorts, flip flops and dirty white tank. Yeah, gold chain. On the beach in SoCal, talked like he thought he was from Brooklyn. Wore Oakley blades. Said crap like, "Briuhn, youse needsta get yer woman undah contro'." He didn't have a TA, but a white Berlinetta style Camaro, with the back window rotting out around it's frame. Sometimes the light is just right, and i'll see a similar car, with "Highway Star" blaring from inside, and that guy will be sitting in the driver's seat, with the back leaned waaaaaaaaay back.

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