Category: Car Slut Confessions

Car Slut Confessions: Korean Luxury Is Real

When it comes to car buying advice, I’m certainly no Consumer Reports. Can I tell you if this year’s Honda Accord is superior to the one before? Hell no. Do I know the new Prius inside and out? Yawn. Sorry, no interest. Unless, of course, it’s covered in marshmallows. But what I can tell you is which upscale vehicle will dramatically increase your happiness quotient...

Car Slut Confessions: Ford GT Is The Man (& Le Mans too)

Last year, I went to the Detroit Auto Show for the very first time.  You can see the video about it here. At one point, I was invited to a big press conference by Ford.  Ok, I thought, let’s see a new boring mid-sized suv.  I sat there, with the lights low, the blue oval prominently in front of me and as the talking heads finished...

Car Slut Confessions: Pantera Perversion

When I was a tween, I was an avid babysitter.  It seemed like a total racket, all I did was play with other people’s kids, eat their food and they gave me cold hard cash!  It was awesome.   There was this one family, however, that had 5 high strung kids where you really had to work for it.  But the first time I sat...

Car Slut Confessions: In Search Of eHarmony

These days, driving an electric car is kind of like losing your virginity.  You know it’s gotta happen some day, but you sure as well don’t want to be the first one, or the last one, to do it.  But given that this is now officially my profession, I figure I’ve got to quit it with my condescending stubborn stares and pop my electric cherry...

Car Slut Confessions: Mini Van Fantasyland

I have a horrible fantasy. It’s dark, disturbing and completely out of character. But when I’m honest with myself, it’s very, very real. I sometimes fantasize that I drive a mini van. And it’s not just any mini van, it’s a white Honda Odyssey with family stick figures and a school mascot and everything. It’s got tiny wheels, regular plates and more cup holders than...

Car Slut Confessions: Mr Clean

My first time was with an Italian. Of course it was, I’m so cliche. He was older, significantly so, but man, did he know what he was doing. The whole process would sometimes take hours, but by the time we were done, it was clear that it was time well spent. I mean, you’ve never seen my mom’s car so clean. His name was Reno...

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