Hello Jalopnik Readers,
My name is Larry Shiteater (pronounced Shy-teeter), and I just did something really bad. Well, at least I think it’s bad. I don’t know. It may not be my fault. I’m scared though, and I need your help.
I created the only new Dodge Dart sale in the year of our Lord 2022. Let me explain how this happened.
Last month my beloved 2005 Mitsubishi Lancer met an unfortunate end when a large group of terrible children trampled all over it. It was ruined, and it meant I needed a new car.
I didn’t know where to turn. I read so much on this excellent site about how right now it’s so hard to buy a new car, but I was stuck. My wonderful Lancer was ruined, and I still have to go to work at the glue factory. Then, I saw an advertisement in my local paper from a Dodge dealership.
It read, “SUNDAY SUNDAY SUNDAY. COME ON DOWN TO FAT JIM’S CHRYSLER JEEP DODGE RAM. IF WE DON’T GET YOU A DEAL, WE’LL KILL YOU.”
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I had to go, since I’d either get a new car or be killed. A win-win. I didn’t know much about the cars they had for sale. I know they have a lot of big loud things that I have no interest in. They would disturb my beautiful – but aged – wife. She can’t be awoken by such loud “Hellcat” noises. And, I don’t need a minivan. Our children have all left for one reason or another. The space would be unnecessary.
I was worried. What if Fat Jim didn’t have the deal for me? I know I said I wanted to die, but I don’t know if I actually do.
So, I hitchhiked down the road to Fat Jim’s. When I arrived I was a bit dismayed at the options. None of them were practical or made sense in any way. I was getting nervous sweats.
“Are they gonna ‘whack’ me?” I thought to myself. Then… out of the corner of my eye I saw it. A Dodge Dart. Brand new. Sitting in a dealer lot for five years.
I knew this was the chariot for me and my older, aging wife. I knew Fat Jim wouldn’t kill me now, and thank god for that. I have so much to live for – especially my ancient wife.
There was just one issue. I have no money. I lost all of it in Theranos. I trusted you Elizabeth Holmes, I trusted you. Anyway. I had to finance the vehicle. Fat Jim was kind enough to give me a 120-month loan with just $32.65 down. A good man, that Fat Jim is.
I drive home and show my old as shit wife the car. She can’t see it, but she can hear how much I like it, and it makes her happy. That’s all that matters. Mrs. Shiteater and I have been enjoying the car in the weeks to follow, but there’s one issue.
The Dart is a dreadful piece of horseshit, and now I am stuck with it. I don’t know what I am to do. Do I keep the Dart and live in shame? Do I call the neighborhood kids and ask them to trample on it again? I don’t know. Fat Jim pulled a fast one on me, and now my husk of a wife doesn’t respect me. Someone please help me. I am in trouble.