Category: Love Letters

Dear VW, Hell Hath No Fury..

… like a Hippie scorned! I am lucky enough to live in a hippie enclave just outside of Los Angeles.  Because, let’s face it, hippies are better than yuppies! But here’s the thing about hippies, while they’re mainly mellow, cheery pacifists, you really don’t want to piss them off.  Here are the things that generally irritate this delicate demographic: *Republicans (all flavors) *Wars (all flavors)...

Dear Car Sales Dude, Let’s Douche It Down A Little

Here’s the thing about being in sales—I get it.  I get that you need to meet your numbers; I get that you work on commission; I get that there’s a douche bag in the back room asking you for your “funnel.” I’ve been that douche bag! But it’s now the 21st century, and women are making close to 70% of the car buying decisions, so...

Dear Santa, Who You Callin’ A Ho?

Every year, like any warm-blooded, marginally Christian grown up, I write a Dear Santa letter. And every year, it goes a little something like this: Dear Santa, I’ve been really (exaggerate, exaggerate or exaggerate) this year and I haven’t even once (lie, lie, lie). I was particularly proud when I (flat-out-lie) and when I (won-the-Nobel-Peace-prize or something equally ridiculous). So I’d really appreciate it if...

Dear Volvo, You’re A Punk Ass Bitch…

…and I mean that in the nicest possible way. Here’s why: You used to be cool.  Remember that?  Remember when the people who drove a Volvo wagon were hippies, free thinkers, those that didn’t need to fit in? Remember when having a Volvo wagon had nothing to do with having kids? Remember when you had a sense of humor? Remember when you knew a little something about design? How did you...

Mama Loves Maya: An Angelou Automotive Tribute

I know you think Maya Angelou had nothing to do with cars, but I beg to differ. Maybe she didn’t drive, maybe she didn’t even own a car, but that’s not the point. For she was the epitome of what makes a Motorhead Mama– having the guts to ignore the haters, yank on a push up bra, raise our chin and let our freak flag fly!  Here’s what the words of Dr. Maya...

Dear AMC, You’re Fly. Like An Eagle .

She ain’t pretty. She ain’t fast.  And God knows, she’s anything but sexy.  But she’s strong, enduring & way, way, way ahead of her time.  She’s the AMC Eagle and she’s about done with your dirty looks. Now, if you’re not familiar with the canon of finely tuned, exceptionally designed, American passenger vehicles of the mid 1980s– don’t worry, Mama’s gonna school you.  AMC is...