Learn English in 5 easy steps

If you go by this charming little “exercise while you learn English” video, the Japanese apparently think that the following is what will happen to you if you visit America. In this exact order.

1. You will need to hail a taxicab.

2. You will need to tell the taxicab driver where you would like to be let out.

3. A mugger will demand your camera at knifepoint. You will give him anything he wants.

4. You will have to beg for your life. He may grant it to you.

5. If you are still alive, someone will ask you on a date, and you should suggest paying for half, lest you look like a whore.

Now you know everything you need to visit America! Oh, except for this.

Dude, where’s my karma?

That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the next installment in the long-running series, “What the Hell is Wrong With Nate’s Car Now?”

When we last left Nathan and Natalie, they were delighted with the purchase of their new Altima, which granted, isn’t new, and granted, isn’t registered or even insured (no lectures, it’s getting done this week), but that hasn’t stopped them from driving it around – and okay, yes, the check-engine light has just come on. Shut up.

Overall it’s a fantastic car, that’s the point, and it has been a nice replacement for the Altima they totaled back in April.

The Jetta, last we saw it, was sitting in Nate’s driveway after he went to the trouble of replacing the rusted hood with a nice, spotless one. He keeps meaning to sell the damn thing, but then he gets busy or forgets.

The Civic they picked up awhile back was driving like a dream, with its new rear muffler and brand new inspection sticker. It seemed like, barring a few things like selling the Jetta, registering the Altima, and buying snow tires, things were finally looking good in the automotive department for Nate and Natalie.

That all changed Saturday night, when Nate was driving in downtown Burlington and heard a tremendous scraping noise. This is one of those noises you do not want to hear coming from the underside of your vehicle, because it means that either A) some costly part is hanging off the bottom of the car, or B) a small child and his tricycle are pinned under there (which, let’s face it, is not good, because it can lead to costly lawsuits and medical bills).

So Nate got out and found that the front part of his muffler had rusted clean through and dropped onto the ground. The back portion was still attached. After feebly attempting to unbolt the back half, he realized that either the bolts were rusted, the part was welded, or both. He never claimed to be handy.

And so he resorted to option two, which was: elevate the muffler from the ground by approximately .0000001/inch using an old, frayed rope, and drive it home at a speed of approximately two-point-five miles per hour. (Option three would have been to call a tow truck, but Nate did not want to do that. Especially since his AAA membership recently expired.)

Luckily Nate was able to enact the frayed rope plan, and even had the presence of mind to take the long way home so as not to drive over any speed bumps. It now sits in the driveway sulking, and if it could talk, the little Honda would surely say the following things:

• “Why did I have to be adopted into this family, with its horrible automotive luck? Why couldn’t I have been bought by some nice young Asian couple who change their oil every 800 miles and never drive above 45 miles per hour?”
• “The mechanic just said I was healthy! I just passed inspection! How did they miss this?”
• “Ow. My dick just dragged on the ground for 3 and a half miles.”

So now, what Nathan would like to know is: does this happen to anyone else, or just him? Because this definitely happens to him a lot. And not just with these last few cars. Remember that time he got married during a flash flood and his car got totaled? Yeah. So what gives, Universe?

Yes. Anatomically speaking, a car’s muffler is his dick.

Spare time

Sure, I’ll grant you that there’s always downtime in a stakeout.

But that time should be spent the way the cops on TV spend it: sitting in a car staring through a set of binoculars, eating bean burritos and complaining about your wife.

Cops in Lakeland, FL decided to spend 9 hours camping out in a drug suspect’s apartment playing a Wii game instead.

Dumb move #2? They forgot one of the security cameras in the place was still running.

Way to be on the ball, fellas.

Via Ronebreak.

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Broken dreams

Today I went to the scrap yard to scare up a better hood for my Jetta. I met my mechanic there; he is a short, young-looking guy with dark hair, and when he showed up in a jumpsuit and shades I told him he looked like Tom Cruise in Top Gun. He said, “That’s not a compliment.”

As he bounded around this automotive playground, he talked about how much fun he has looking at all these cars and trying to guess their owners’ stories. He pointed out one car with a pair of jeans and work boots in the trunk, and an old sewing machine in the back seat. “People leave all sorts of junk in a car when they know it’s going to the salvage yard,” he said. “Appliances, clothes – sometimes they’ll even fill it with dirt to try to get the weight up and get paid more for it.”

Old rusty hood, w/my reflection.

Within 5 minutes he had found a suitable black hood to replace mine, which was covered in a large constellation of unsightly rust.

In another 20 minutes, he had the two hoods swapped out, and it improved the looks of my car considerably. It was then I felt my first twinge of sadness that I have to sell the little thing. It was my first truly decent car, and it has a kickass stereo system in it.

But I had fun anyway. It was a bit like a modern anthropological expedition, and it almost makes me want to go back and wander around some more, taking notes and crafting wonderful, poetic tales from the decaying remains of people’s former prized possessions.

Almost. It’s also one of the sketchiest places I’ve ever been in my life.

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Just like new.

Stockholm snatch-and-grab

"Dude, where's my kronas?"

This morning I mentioned on the A&B blog that 100,000 phony New York Post newspapers hit the city this morning with the headline, “We’re Screwed.”

Apparently that wasn’t the only thing that happened today we can file under the heading of “totally badass.”

Explosives. Phony explosives. Stolen helicopters. Rappelling through windows in the ceiling of banks. Criminals carried out a pre-dawn heist in Stockholm this morning that, ok, yes, terrified quite a few people and was technically quite illegal, but the little boy in me can’t help thinking about how totally freaking AWESOME it was.

Who’s with me?

Stick shifts & safety belts

“Stick shifts and safety belts, bucket seats have all got to go.”

So the song goes, and though safety belts and bucket seats are here to stay, sometimes you have to get rid of the stick shift.

It’s been at least 4 months we’ve been stuck in the Hartswick household with two manual transmissions. And though I love them and will never drive anything else, my girlfriend can’t get either one of them to travel 10 feet without stalling out and giving us both whiplash.

Oh, our intentions were good. “I’ll teach you to drive it,” I said, but who has the bloody time. So instead, I shuttled her. Everywhere. To work. To rehearsal. To the chiropractor, to work on our whiplash.

So over the weekend, I made a rash decision. While she was at work, I went out and bought her a car.

It’s a beautiful 98 Altima. She was thrilled to have her independence back, and I was thrilled to no longer have her depending on me.

Now all I’ve gotta do is unload one of our stick shifts.

Wanna buy a 98 Jetta?