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Babe Magnet: All Terrain Barracuda

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“Don’t hassle me, man, I’m here to replace your toner cartridge. I mean it. Back off already. Look, all the roads are closed, but I got here, okay? So just back off. You gotta buck for gas?”

This is a prime example of the best of the rural Babe Magnet genre, and one of the last of the breed that uses a speedometer as a gas gauge. The owner’s name just has to be “Danny,” but his friends call him “Bo.” Bo added glasspacks, airshocks and oversized rims to this classic muscle car, and jacked it up so he wouldn’t get stuck in three-foot high mud drifts along the levee. Pure efficient genius.

The Babe Magnetage factor is subdued, but if you look closer, it’s there in all its glory. The sub-bumper floodlights, the purple window tinting, the flat black “Smokey’s radar ain’t never gonna reflect this” paint job spells it all out for the Johnson twins, Velveeta and Vivarina.

The double V’s beg for rides to the Reddy-Mart for Slush Puppies and Moon Pies while Bo feigns disinterest. He slaps in an 8-track of Uriah Heep’s Greatest Hits, pops open a warm YooHoo with his thumb, and leaves a rooster tail of crushed rock on his way to his job restocking fan belts at the Sunoco station.

[Image from here.]

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2 Responses to “Babe Magnet: All Terrain Barracuda”

  1. VE Says:

    Hah. Hillarious. It looks like that beast might not even fit into that garage…not that it matters.

  2. Bunk Says:

    VE–

    It won’t fit because the garage is filled with rusty box springs, two mattresses, a couch, two Toro Mowers broken down for parts, a Gravely Bush Hog that doesn’t work, a stack of wheel rims from a friend’s El Dorado with worn snow tires, a work bench with a broken lathe, and three years worth of Blue Ribbon Beer cans to take to the recycle yard. Oh yeah, and a disassembled chainlink dog run next to the 1950 Ford flat head six engine block that has an oil stained corrugated cardboard box on top that holds his Playboy collection.

    And you’re absolutely right. It doesn’t matter.

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