I was meeting my friends Clay and Paul in a hip café near campus on the east side of Milwaukee. How hip? Deep fried balls of shredded turkey meat with mashed potatoes and beer gravy? Comet Café. Farwell Avenue.
As I approached, I sensed the presence of this menacing car.
Go ahead and snicker. I don't blame you. There is probably no more domesticated a car than a 2000 Ford Taurus.
But look into the yellowed, moist, cataract-covered eyes of this beast. Even the self-adhesive Gothic symbols are shredding themselves from its flanks. There’s a roll of toilet paper on the rear package shelf, for God’s sake. This is a nasty car. Nasty.
I was telling Clay and Paul about it as I slid into the booth.
Our waitress, Ariel, smiled cheerily and said “Oh, that’s my car.”
“I got the sweet Wolverine gash when I backed into a fence.”
This incident prompted the paint job, and the blood gushing from the wound is meant to make a statement. “I wanted to enter a demolition derby, so I wanted her to look real mean," Arial told me, clenching her teeth a little bit. (She also confided that she sometimes refers to the Taurus as the “BratMobile”, but that’s not an "official" name. I'm sure she'll come up with something more intimidating.)
"But then I found out that the derbies have all these safety requirements, like a special gas tank, harnesses, and everything. And the suspension is shot. I was afraid I wouldn’t even meet the safety standards for a demolition derby." There's your proof. This car is too dangerous for the demolition derby.
“There was never any doubt about the color. It was always going to be flat black.”