In fact, he's shot so many interesting cars and trucks down on the Newport Beach and Costa Mesa streets that I have no choice but to share some of them. We've seen other Tomsk DOTSBE cars before, and we're sure to see more in the future, since rust-free Orange County is loaded to the gunwales with old iron. First up is this trio of Malaise Detroit Iron, with each of the Big Three represented: a 1978 Buick LeSabre, a 1979 Lincoln Continental Mark V, and a 1974 Plymouth Duster. Technically, a Duster isn't a "Yank Tank," but imagine it parked next to some spindly Renault 5 and it might as well have clanking treads and a guy named "Sarge" at the wheel. Here's what Tomsk has to say about these fine machines:
1974 Plymouth Duster: Everybody loves Dusters, possibly because they attract comely young lasses like Ethel, but also because it was such a clean design. My research seems to suggest this is a '74, though the Mopar fanatics are welcome to correct me if need be. It even has the original "Plymouth Division" dog dishes. Le sigh...
1979 Lincoln Mark V: Picture this: It's 1978, and you need a snazzy, two-door way to get from one of your hoes to the next. Price is no object, as your girls make you more scratch than you know what to do with, nor is size, because you were a mildly successful truck driver before you decided to try your hand at pimping.
What to buy? You could get a Rolls Camargue or a Mercedes 450 SLC, but your father had instilled a strong sense of patriotism and respect for the American worker during those formative years where he beat you to a pulp while you cowered helplessly in your crib.
Okay, so it has to be American. A Cadillac Eldorado? No, because when Daddy wasn't wailing on you while pontificating on the evils of foreign goods, he was wailing on you while pontificating on the evils of front-wheel drive. "ONLY RUST-PRONE, COMMIE-MADE SHITBOXES SHOULD HAVE THAT LAYOUT!!!!" he'd bellow as he pummeled your still quite soft cranium with your favorite rattle.
So, no Caddy for you, then. How about the Chrysler Cordoba? That's a non-starter, too, as the accent of that car's pitchman reminds you of the time you caught your mom and the gardner playing "the game only grownups can play."
That leaves...the Lincoln Continental Mark V. But when you get to the Lincoln-Mercury dealer, you don't order any old Mark V. Oh, no sir; you plunk down the extra cash for the mofuggin' Cartier edition. When your customers see that name on the opera windows, they'll say to themselves, "This guy is the real deal. I should probably pay up, because if I don't, he probably will knock me out, stuff me into a safe, and drop aforementioned safe into the river."
Excellent choice, sir. Excellent choice.