..:S...P...I...D...E...R...B...I...T...E...S:..

Tuesday, December 30, 2003

"He's got the oil on his chain, for a ride in the rain. No baloney. Ride around on my bicycle like a pony..."
- Tony's Theme - The Pixies


stop me if you've heard this one. anyone who's been over to my apartment in Perrysburg would have seen this on my wall and been forced to endure the story that goes with it so i apologize to whoever has to sit through it again but i just unpacked this license plate from a box full of posters and Kaytee wanted to know what it was so i thought i'd tell the story one last time before i threw it away.

it's not a real license plate, although you might not be able to tell while looking at such a masterpiece of deception (hey kids! suppies needed to make your own: side of a corn flakes box, magic marker, keen eye) check it out, i even drew fake screws on there. hell, even the highway patrol would look at my little fake registration sticker and, at the worst, say "sir, these plates are expired."

so here's the history of it. at my old apartment i started to notice something right around summertime. right about the time that i started leaving the windows open and it was warm enough to hear the sounds of the world. only the sounds of the world seemed to be the sounds of Journey's Greatest Hits. every single day. i'd open the window, toothbrush hanging out of my mouth and BAM "any way you want it! that's the way you need it! any way you want it..." i was like, "who the hell likes Journey enough to listen to that shit every day?" and don't get me wrong, i've got some shit music of my own that i wouldn't wish on anyone, but this was coming from the parking lot every morning and night like clockwork. what was it? tail-gate party pre-games for the Journey concert at the Ohio State Fair? two kids from the 80's making out in their car? the lamest poltergiest in the history of ghost stories? nope. none of the above.

it was the Wild Pony.

some little dude with a brand new (at the time) Ford Mustang GT. all shiny and chrome and baby blue and he was out there lovingly rubbing it with a rag. i thought, "isn't that sweet" and closed the window. next day:

"ANY WAY YOU WANT IT, THAT'S THE WAY YOU NEED IT..."

and the next. and the next. and the next. this douchbag was waxing and stroking his car every fucking day. and parking it under the one tree in the lot for protection from the sun. and running out to move it when someone parked too close. and leaning on it with his goofy sleeveless shirt with not a muscle in sight. it was getting on my nerves. and he'd leave a towel hanging out of the trunk after each waxing. i'd stare at that white towel dangling there and wonder what the significance was. it reminded me of that movie "Cruising" with Al "Scarface Took It Up The Ass???" Pacino. in that movie, Al goes undercover in leather bars to find some killer who's stalking gay men and he wears a bandana in his right pocket and gets scolded by some guy because right pocket means you like to take it in the ass and the left pocket means you like to give it in the ass. and yellow rag means you like "watersports" and a red white and blue rag means that you'll shout out "America love it or leave it!" when you're getting butt-fucked. okay i made the last one up. and i might have the left pocket/right pocket thing backwards so i'll never risk wearing a bandana. i started to wonder about the significance of those Journey lyrics. "any way you want it?" hmmm.

anyway, point is, i started imagining all sorts of signals this clown might be sending with his towel in the trunk thing. i started calling friends to describe the scene and they kept suggesting that i shouldn't get obsessed watching my neighbors (again! scare ya?) and what do i care if he waxes his car every day? oh yeah, one more thing. the most important detail. he had a personalized license plate that said:

WLD-PNY

that's right. he was the Wild Pony. there's no denying it. i mean, if you put that on your license plate, i guess you want to be called "Wild Pony?" am i wrong? how can you NOT fuck with a guy like that? all this would have been reason enough but there was more:

he had another car. he had a car that he was ashamed of. he had another car that he never washed once. it was an old Grenada or something. rusted out. no back bumper. parked up against the fence in the corner of the lot where no one could see it without squinting. and he would only drive it when the weather was really bad. and he would get things out of the truck when it was really late at night. you know why? because he was ashamed of it. it was like he was hiding a deformed child in his basement. i had to do something. i started thinking that he should be proud of that other car. i decided that there was room in the world for another Wild Pony and i took some time away from my morning rituals to make him another personalized license plate. that's right! it's the Wild Pony 2! say it with pride! say it with pleasure! Infectious Grooves said that. oops, you already clicked on that picture, didn't you? i guess i ruined the joke with the punchline first. my fault. oh well, fuck it. Tarantino did the same thing by showing the "Pussy Wagon" before he showed the key-chain and no one complained about that.

so anyway, i sneaked out and taped the new plate onto his Grenada so that he'd finally give some love to this neglected car and maybe, someday, he'd crank Jouney's Greatest Hits out of an old 8-track one-speaker sound system in that second no-bumper car. and maybe he'd drive THAT car slowly around the parking lot, ashamed no more, skinny arm hanging out the driver's side window, sunglasses at night like Cory Hart told him too...alas it wasn't meant to be.

when i came home, i saw my gift had been refused. my lovingly hand-crafted Wild Pony 2 vanity plate lying in the cornfield next to our parking lot. sigh. oh well, it's like Journey always said...no, wait. the Pixies said it better:

"I got a card in my spokes. I'm practicing my joke, I'm learning..."

::: david - 10:31 PM [+] :::
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