Nov 15, 2014
Hours later I wash up, lock up the shop and I discover waiting for me at the curb is the Fiat. And when I began to drive it home, I began to have an appreciation for the reverence that you had for the Dart. Because, compared to the Dart, the Fiat is such a hopeless piece of trash!
TOM: Quiet, I'm trying to sell it!
RAY: I mean, my heart was in my throat the entire time, to say nothing of the fact that my few remaining brain cells were eradicated by the smell of gasoline
TOM: Yeah, the air quality is bad. That's why the top doesn't go up! You'd die if you had the top up.
RAY: I had the top up.
TOM: You did?
RAY: Well, I get home, and I guess because I was overwhelmed by the gasoline fumes, I had a dream. And in this dream, I saw you driving a spiffy little convertible. And the license plate of this convertible said WEIGHT. Not WAIT, but WEIGHT.
RAY: And I said, "Hmm! WEIGHT? What kind of a car would have this license plate?" That's the question.
TOM: How prophetic this answer is, because I will be within minutes, I hope, the owner of one of these very cars.
RAY: Yes, and the car that Tommy is getting is the formula for weight, because in our system of measurement, weight is mass times the acceleration of gravity ... or MG! Do we have a winner?
TOM: The winner is Carol Strumpek from Chantilly, Virginia.