“I told you, my car is green. Green like a scarab. Green like jade, like the jadest jade you’ve ever seen, like a jade egg you might choose to enjoy erotically. Green like emerald. Green like a thousand Kermits blended together. Cassie, I need you too look at me—LOOK AT ME—and tell me you understand, really understand, that I drive a green car. I need this. I need to know you know I need this. My car is green, Cassie, and I am not ashamed.”
Senior Editor, Jalopnik • Running: 1973 VW Beetle, 2006 Scion xB, 1990 Nissan Pao, 1991 Yugo GV Plus, 2020 Changli EV • Not-so-running: 1977 Dodge Tioga RV (also, buy my book!: https://rb.gy/udnqhh)
I’ve posted this before, but it seems relevant today: I once was in the grocery store and encountered ‘The Green Lady’. Every piece of clothing was green, her nails, lipstick, and hair were green. But moreover, everything in her cart was green. green dish soap, a green mop, a watermelon, some scotch-brite pads, more green clothes, Once outside the store, I saw the most magical thing. A late 80's Ford Country Squire station wagon, brush painted green with latex paint. The trim was green, the tires and hubcaps were green, the windows had been painted green, but were wiped strategically to make areas to see out of. The complete interior of the car had been brush-painted green as well. And everywhere except the driver’s seat was piled high with green products still in their boxes. Mental illness ... damn!