Excuse Me, You Have Toilet Paper in Your Exhaust
Today, I was driving home from work, and I noticed next to me a gorgeous, dusty-blue Porsche. Curvy, shiny, sleek, cruising along almost effortlessly down the side streets.
As the Porsche pulled ahead of me (I drive a 1993 Honda, after all), I glimpsed something flapping near the exhaust system. There was a large plastic bag stuck to the muffler. It flapped and danced in the wind. The Porsche (and its owner) obviously had no idea it was there.
It reminded me of seeing a beautiful woman out on the town, made-up, well-coifed, wearing her shiny ball gown... but with toilet paper stuck to her $400 shoe. I wanted to yell to the driver, but his window was rolled up.
But, if that Porsche had been a woman leaving the restroom, you can bet I would have stopped her politely.
As the Porsche pulled ahead of me (I drive a 1993 Honda, after all), I glimpsed something flapping near the exhaust system. There was a large plastic bag stuck to the muffler. It flapped and danced in the wind. The Porsche (and its owner) obviously had no idea it was there.
It reminded me of seeing a beautiful woman out on the town, made-up, well-coifed, wearing her shiny ball gown... but with toilet paper stuck to her $400 shoe. I wanted to yell to the driver, but his window was rolled up.
But, if that Porsche had been a woman leaving the restroom, you can bet I would have stopped her politely.
posted by Bert at 8:01 PM
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