Category: Automotive

Babe Magnet: The Spoiler

Well, well, well. What do we have here?

Looks like it’s time for the Dorkville Senior Prom, and someone’s dad brought home some scrap plywood and 1×6 roof sheathing from the jobsite again. He snagged an aerosol can of expansive foam insulation as well. The same someone’s mom scored some water color poster paint from the art supply room at Dorkville Elementary while Mrs. DeFarcas was busy washing the wheat paste off of Bobby Bieber’s face. Who could that someone be?

Trey Johnson. He’s that little s.o.b. from down the street that tried to let air out of your tires and only managed to release a half-pound before his fingernail ripped when you hit him with the garden hose on Halloween night a coupla years back. Now he’s a junior at Dorkville High, and he owns a staple gun. He tried to flatten your spare with it just last week.

Not much I can say that’s not intuitively obvious to the casual observer, except that TJ really screwed up the fit of the trunk and had to replace both rear light assemblies (you can’t chip away that foam insulation without damage) and got no dates for his trouble. Even the Dorkville Cheerleaders laughed at him.

Yet another great Babe Magnet. Pure efficient genius.

[Image from here.]

Babe Magnet del Pinto Viento

Whoa! This Monster Magoo automatically qualifies as a genuine Babe Magnet if only because its owner photographed it from dog-eye level and printed it in B&W just to keep the yellow snow in check.

Good God, I’m drooling over this one… way too many places to begin, so let’s start here.

IT’S A PINTO!

But wait, there’s more! It’s a dark color, prolly navy blue, with flames erupting from the wrong end of this rolling molotov cocktail. The Ford Pinto was designed to be, and was, a real carp car, until GMC AMC beat Ford to the bottom with the Gremlin. At least the Gremlin didn’t spray atomized gasoline all over the neighborhood when it was rear-ended by that little s.o.b. Bobby Bieber on his Honda 50.

In order to enhance the Pinto’s reputation as a rolling flamethrower, Earl “Tom” Slick jacked it up to make sure that ANY rear end collision would hit the gas tank, and not just the ones caused by Stevie Wonder backing into the 6-inch yellow-painted steel pipe filled with concrete adjacent to the Wendy’s drive-thru window.

Oh, but then there are the snow tires that say either “Granola” or “Formula.” If the former, Earl is the whelp of hippy wannabes; if the latter, Tom has at least one PET Milk fan in his nuclear family. He gets some serious BM points either way.

Good God. There’s just too much to comment on, like the air dam with what appears to be a Life Motto: “To the House.” Maybe it’s “To the Mouse.” Or maybe it’s “To the Noose.” Doesn’t matter. It’s there, and it’s going to the thing that it refers to. Whew.

This is a classic Babe Magnet if there ever was one.

We haven’t even touched on Earl’s aluminum tower. Two lame Carter carburetors take the place of one lame Rochester on a homemade aluminum chimney.

We didn’t get to the sound system, designed solely for Brownsville Station’s greatest 8-track hit. We didn’t clamp down on Earl’s taste in sidewalk sirens/pavement princesses.

SO much left untouched and undone.

This BABE MAGNET deserves a second helping. Fill in the blanks with a Number Two pencil in the comments section below.

[UPDATE: The air dam inscription is “TO THE WOODS” and makes just about as much sense as the other interpretations. Oh, wait, maybe it’s “TO THE HOODS.” Hold on… “TO THE WOOS’S?” I dunno, Babs.]

[Pinto Blowage from here.]

Babe (I mean Bitch) Magnet

[Okay, we’re talking about Definition No. 1 in Webster ‘s Unabridged here. This post is about DOGS AND THEIR CARS.]

“Opal, you hot little bitch! We’re off to the frisbee catchin’ competition, so quit yer yappin’ before I nip you in the hindquarters!”

Looks like Bowzer’s already caught one with his canine carriage of love. Gotta load of Cheese-N-Liver flavored MilkBones in the glove compartment, and a case of rawhide chews in the trunk, with Don Charles’ Singing Dogs, Howlin’ Wolf’s Greatest hits, and the full-length version of George Clinton’s “Atomic Dog” for later in the CD Player queue lineup.

Bow wow wow yippee yo yippee yay.

[Image from here.]

Babe Magnet: We Gonna Rock the Pavement

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.]

Babe Magnet: Yellow Fin vs. Yellow Slime

This exquisite piece of Babe Magnetizement was found at LoserCars. Can’t be sure of the make or model, but it appears to be a 1955 Chevy V-6 with the genitalia removed, and fiberglassage slathered all over it to make it appear to be a 1957 Chevy V-8 with the genitalia removed and a big ‘ol honkin’ Eyeball ‘O Death on the front of the dorsal fin. Pure efficient genius. Kinda suggests what kinda talent the Mendocino Volunteer Fire Department has.

“Dude! Like, the bell went off. There’s like a fire or sump’m.”
“Chill, dude, like, I spoke with the guy at the county, and he said like fires are like illegal here and stuff.”
“Okay, but if we gotta roll, can I like ride on top and work the EyeThing?”

But I’ll let YOU be the judge as to which BM is coolest. FinPeng emailed me the SlimeMobile:

All I can say about the SlimeMobile is that it doesn’t do speedbumps very well, and it has a lot of exposed pulsing varicose veins for your motoring and viewing pleasure. A Molten Honda Civic is one thing, but at 5mph in a parking lot, a true Babe Magnet should scream, “GET IN HERE NOW AND DON’T TELL YOUR MOTHER.”

Unfortunately, this one screams, “OHNOSPEEDBUMP!! QUICK! GIMME MY NITROGLYCERIN! THE HOSPITAL IS ONLY AUUGGGGGHHH.”

So which one is the true Babe Magnet? AND FOR GOD’S SAKE DO NOT POST ANY COMMENTS.

[The best collection of True Babe Magnets on the internest can be found here for comparison.]

OpinionMobile is NOT a Babe Magnet… (OR IS IT?)

Let’s take a closer look.
It’s just a jump to the left:

Let’s see. Among other things, we’ve got

“Feed the People, Not the Pentagon;”
“He’s not MY President;”
“Chicks Rule;”
“F**k Up;”
“Money Talks, Chocolate Rules;”
“F**k Me I’m Fat;”
“Fight the War at Home; End Homelessness;”
“Dope & Hemp ’96;”
“Dr. Laura is a Biological Error.”

…Then a step to the right:

“Bombs R Us;”
“Civil Liberties – Don’t Leave Home Without Them;”
“Suicide;”
“Don’t Do It;”
“US out of Iraq;”
“Whose Media? Our Media;”
“Free Leonard Feather(?)” Couldn’t quite make that one out.

Okay. Given all that, here’s the assessment.

First of all, no guy would do this to his first car knowing what all those stickers would do to a paint job, and that he’d have to scrape ’em all off and pay for a paint job before he could sell it. The owner is a female.

Because no guy would deliberately do that to his ride unless it was a complete POS, and that it appears to be a decent Chevy Cavalier, this car was a gift from Daddy. The owner of the OpinionMobile is therefore in college, somewhere in Michigan (the source of the image).

She goes by the name of Sascha even though her real name is Amber Lynne. She’s got dyed black hair with a streak of purple, some miscellaneous piercings, and tattoos on her pasty white calves. Did I say she was overweight? No. She did. She’s fat. Fat, pierced and tattooed. And she likes to get stoned.

She’s got a pet rat, and her girlfriend’s name is Beverly. Did I say she was a lesbian? No. She did with her Dr. Laura sticker, and she’s never listened to the program. Pure efficient genius.

Therefore, this four-wheeled beast of burden without a spare qualifies as a true Babe Magnet… just not in the traditional sense, and, uh, I’m outta here.

[Image from here.]

“I’ve Been Workin’ on the [Babe Magnet] All the Live Long Day…”

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Identical twin brothers Haney and Russ “Harpo” d’Coqueville have come up with an innovative way to save gas by making sure that their ride don’t roll while they transform it into the Babe Magnet they always dreamed of. I can’t identify the model exactly, but it looks like a 1977 Ford POS to me.

Although they aren’t in their official Babe Hunting Garb, Russ and Haney believe they can pull it off (the Babe Magnet transformation, I mean). Russ’ carpentry toolbelt and framing hammer is a not-so-subtle give-away that the finished Babe Magnet will definitely be a work of sump’m, with or without windows.

Film at 11.

[Lost track of this image source, too, and prolly for good reason.]

LOL Roads Without Captions – yet

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[Images via email from here. You go girl.]

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.]

Babe Magnet: Duct Tape

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It’s a difficult call as to whether or not this magnificent piece of machinery truly qualifies as a genuine Babe Magnet. The role of the duct tape would give it automatic induction into the realm of the BM, but this relic seems to be sitting a a few too many parking lots downstream of the Stop-N-Go store in uptown Tomball.

In other words, it just isn’t advertising itself… except for one, actually two details.

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Yep. Rubber doorstops for the broken window regulator grant this monster machine a solid thumbs up as a genuine Babe Magnet. Pure efficient genius.

[Images from here.]

UPDATE 12 March 2008: I’m embarrassed to admit that I missed one other important detail. The seven little white things on the dashboard are either (a) Sun-bleached Easter peeps from last year; (b) Partially consumed rice balls; (c) A used Kleenex collection; or (d) Little tiny ghosts.

There may be other solutions to the mystery of the little white things. I know that some of y’all have more expertise identifying LWT’s through the windshield of a Babe Magnet than I, and I’d appreciate any suggestions so that we can put this Bunk stumper to rest.