Actually, he’s about to start popping pavers, and unless he puts chocks under all four wheels he’s gonna end up in the pool on the other side of the fence.
Still, I wanna hear what THIS sounds like on THAT system. When this guy parks, all conversation stops south of the Aural Assault Vehicle (AAV), unless one is well versed in ASL, or you happen to be a quarter mile away and approaching from the north.
Rain? No worries. Just power it up, hit PLAY INDIE/TECHNO MIX, and raindrops are vaporized into winter dogbreath within a nineteen-foot diameter hemisphere, as the AAV self-propels itself down Interstate 10 on sound waves alone. Pure efficient genius.
Does he have a chance with the babes? Certainly, but in order to score he’s gonna hafta take requests and blast chick music with the volume set at 11. That’s when he risks being pounded into red applesauce by a dozen bikers roaring in from the next county over who don’t have an affinity for Hannah Montana.
Better stick with Hendrix and Steppenwolf, bro.
[Image from here.]