Our Quest for Fireworks...

We had an odd 4th of July, not that it was a bad 4th of July, just a different 4th of July...

We planned to go to the beach, Anze the Dog wanted to build his sand condo complexes. Cakes and I needed some sun. We wanted some seafood from Neptune's Net. Then we were going to cook a couple of steaks on the grill. We were going to have a cocktail or two and a nice bottle of wine with dinner. We were going to have some apple pie.

We did none of the above.

Instead, I wrote "Aftermath" cooked a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, Cakes did some 4th of July posts for her clients and some planning for the balance of the week. The three of us took a nice long nap.

Awake in the late afternoon, we looked at each other. We decided that we were too damn lazy to do much of anything. I didn't feel like grilling either. An hour passed pleasantly on the porch, now it was 5. We had a cocktail. Cakes had a screwdriver, I had a Jack on the rocks. I looked at her, she looked at me

We ordered take out from Red's Barbecue. Free delivery on orders over $25,00. Combo dinner with three sides, $28,95 with tax and delivery, I added a 7 buck tip for the kid who drove it to us. he was a nice kid, too. His parents have a ton of money invested in his braces. He complimented us on the house and the flowers, should have tipped him more.

In the huge bag from Red's there were baby back ribs, a chunk of smoked tri tip and a chicken breast, mashed potatoes, baked beans and cole slaw. A lot of food for two. There are left overs in the fridge.

We finished dinner and decided to drive the twisting, turning road to the top of the mountain (big hill) to watch the fireworks from Canoga Park, Agoura, Thousnad Oaks, Simi, and Moorpark, the summit is over 2 thousand feet and once you get there the view is hellacious. The big hill is in the Santa Monica Mountains Preserve, so there are a few rangers around.

Our ranger was a nice, thin, middle aged guy, who politely suggested we were nuts to think we would enjoy 4th of July fireworks from up there, explaing, "All you'll see is some flashes in the sky, no sound none of the punch you get when you're close, know what I mean?"

Anze the Dog did his business and we left.

Back down the twisty road with steep drop offs. "Don't get so close to the side, it scares me." Cakes said. She wasn't polite about it either.

She suggested we just go home and watch fireworks on PBS. I said "No! I want to see some fireworks, it's the 4th of July!" I was as polite as she had been.

We get on Los Angeles Avenue, a pretty busy street, but tonight it's like the 405 at 5 on a Friday afternoon, we're a mile from the Community Center complex, the traffic is bumper to bumper and cars are parked on both sides of the 6 lane divided street. The sidewalks are filled with people hauling coolers, lawn chairs, kids in strollers, kids with balloons, we're crawling along at 5 miles an hour. My idea is to park across the street from the Community Center in the train station parking lot, we're about two blocks from the turn off to the lot. There are cops every where, lights flashing, they can't get the traffic moving so they are standing around by their cruisers, shooting the shit under the flashing lights. Nice.

I'm stuck in the right hand lane so I hang a right into a grocery store parking lot ignoring the huge sign saying "No Event Parking" we creep, bumper to bumper in the lot for 10 minutes hoping against hope we can find a spot to park and walk to the community center. I finally find a spot behind the Smart and Final grocery store. I park across from the loading dock, there are a couple of mugs with their truck blocking the driveway right behind where I park, they have dayglo vests on, they must be official because nobody wears a dayglo vest just for the hell of it. I ask them if it's okay to park there, the fat guy shrugs and says, "I don't give a shit." We stay put and parked. We can hear music from the event, the girl singer talks too much between songs, but other than that...the band isn't too bad. More cars and people show up. People are putting blankets down on the asphalt for chrissakes! Kids are running around, there's drinking going on in violation of the law, nobody is worried because the cops are standing around in bullet proof vests telling each other cop jokes.

I hook up Anze the Dog to his leash and walk him around, he makes friends with a dozen people, licks a few faces and falls in love with a little Asian girl.

Back in the Jeep, we roll back the sun roof. Cakes take off her sandals, stands up on the seat, gets her camera ready as the countdown to the show starts, 9-8-7-6. There's a hedge and a wall next to the car. 5-4-3-2-1. We hear a whump on the other side of the wall and then the sky lights up.

Whump, whump...

Whump, whump, whump...

The fireworks are exploding right over our heads...what the hell!

The guys shooting off the display are right on the other side of the wall! After all the bullshit we've gone through to see fireworks this year, we end up right  next to them, wow. We are not only stunned, but amazed! Not only do we get the full treatment up close, the back wall of the grocery store bounces the sound right back at us and it it's loud enough to give you a punch in the guts and a kick in the ass! And it doesn't bother Anze the Dog a bit!

BLAM!

It took us forever to get out from behind the store and out of the parking lot. Everybody was courteous except the asshole in the old Bronco that obviously can't pass the emissions inspection, the exhaust stink was so bad, I had to roll up the windows, close the sunroof and turn the AC on recirculate so we could breath. We made in home with smiles on our faces, in bed and asleep by 11:30. A good 4th of July after all.

July 4th Roundup-Aftermath

Mom looks like Katherine Hepburn, her best friend Betty looks like Donna Reed and her other best friend Margaret looks like Loretta Young. Movie stars, the three of them. Right now they are doing dishes, it's late at the lake. The men? They're sitting out in the yard, lying to each other, that's what the old man calls it anyway.

Ginny's mom, Betty is divorced, Ginny hates, with the power of a thousand burning suns, her mom's boyfriend Mike. I don't like him either. I get the feeling nobody likes him, except Betty. I've heard bachelor Bert mutter, "Jesus what an asshole" more than once.

We only have two bedrooms at the lake, 5th wheel Bert and the two couples are staying in Mentor at a drive up to the door motel. At the last minute, Ginny finds out she is staying with us. She storms out of the cabin yelling "I hate you, you are disgusting!" Ginny knows what's up.

Mom and dad are standing out in the driveway saying goodbye, they are loud and laughing. I join Ginny on the front porch steps, I start to say something and she says 'Just shut up." We sit and slap mosquitoes.

The old man comes out on the porch, he's got a shopping bag, Roman candles are sticking out of it. I perk up, he says, "Come on you two, let's have some fun. We head down the steps to the dock.

These aren't regular roman candles, they are mortars, military grade fireworks. The old man says,"Ralphie's dad ordered them special for us, not supposed to have them." Ginny is momentarily un-pissed, I'm so excited I feel like I have to.

"Ka-god damned-boom" a red ball of fire arcs out over the lake, it must be 200  hundred feet in the air, then another and another, red, green, yellow balls of fire. The old man hands me one of the candles. You could hold off a Panzer attack with one of these babies...the old man lights it with a Zippo. My arm recoils, Holy shit, a burning red glob of fire shoots across the lake. Ginny is jumping up and down. My eyes are as big as saucers, the old man is  laughing, "point up a little more, Jesus not that high, it'll come down on your head...blam, blam, blam. This great!

The old man lights the last two for us, Ginny has one and so do I. Boom, blam, ka-boom. This is so good, I think we both have our first orgasms!

Back up the steps from the dock to the cabin, we're laughing, mom isn't, she's on her hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor, she looks at the old man and says, "I'm glad you're having fun." The old man announces he's, 'going to bed". Ginny and I help mom clean up. Done, Mom smokes a cigarette out on the porch, she's tired and pissed. Ginny, pissed again, sits next to her on the porch swing, mom puts her arm around Ginny's shoulder, Ginny is sobbing, mom is patting her hair. No place for me, I stay away, lips zipped. Like Ginny, I know what's up.

Mom goes to bed, Ginny crawls in with my sister, my little brother is on the cot in the "kid's room". I'm on the sofa in the living room, wide awake under a Hudson Bay blanket, a red one with black stripes.

4th of July Round Up

First actual cook out at the new lake cabin, the old man lights the grill using boat gas...mmm good.

Same time, same place. The bottom paint on Gramp's fishing boat is peeling after 4 weeks in the water, fact is he used barn paint, pointed out by smart ass grandson who noticed it while swimming underwater near the dock and handed him a chunk of paint...

M40 goes off a foot or 2 from my hand, hand is numb, the old man's words cut through the ringing in my ears, "Be careful with those, you could blow your hand off"...

My grand parents on both sides are from the generation who dress up for cook outs and picnics, one grand father has a tie on and it's 90 degrees...they both wear hats too

A few years later...

Mom and dad have a bunch of friends at the lake for the 4th. I'm 12, Mom's best friend's daughter Ginny is 13, we ask, politely, a very drunk Bert if we can take his T-Bird for a ride, Bert says sure, we ask 5 more times...

Mom and a couple of her friends want to go for an evening boat ride, I don't check the fuel (I'm 12 for chrissakes) we run out of gas in the Flyer 3/4 of a mile from the cabin. Can't row a runabout. I go over the side grab the bowline and side stroke the boat back to the cabin while mom and her pals smoke and enjoy the evening breeze...when we get back smart ass Ginny says she's REALLY glad she did go along...Ginny's mom Betty says, "you're quite the swimmer"...

Setting off fireworks later in the evening, my little brother is running around with a sparkler, trips and burns his hand, starts wailing, shuts up when he gets a Popsicle shoved in his mouth...my young sister changes her clothes for the 10th time that day (encouraged by Ginny) gets her ass chewed by mom after she sees all the clothes on the floor of the "kid's room"...my sister weeps for a minute, promises to be good, changes her clothes again and comes out for the fireworks wearing lip stick and rouge applied by Ginny...mom gives up...

The old man likes fireworks as much as I do, I notice  he seems a little unsteady as he bends over to light them off, probably something to do with all all the Canadian Club he's been drinking since noon...our adult supervision doesn't notice that Ginny and I steal a couple of cold beers out of the cooler...we drink them under the birch trees along the driveway...

We have the old original outhouse out back in service and it's being put to good use by the men, Bert is sitting in there and my dad's best friend Bobby lights an entire pack of Black Cats, opens the door and tosses them in the privy and holds the door closed, Bert comes out more dazed than when he went in....Bert called Bobby multiple bad names, as a ex navy man he knew a lot of them....Ginny and I decide it's not a good time to ask him if we can take the T-Bird for a ride again.

Happy 4th...

An advice column for Incels

This guy is a self proclaimed Incel, he can't get laid and is angry about it. really angry

Just so you know what kind of dirt bags we are discussing:

ncels are "involuntary celibates" Incels are self-identifying members of an online subculture^[ who define themselves as unable to find a romantic or sexual partner despite desiring one, a state they describe as inceldom. Self-identified incels are mostly white, male, and heterosexual..

This Incel is pissed because he can't get a woman to talk to him, to date him or even consider fucking him and he blames her, it's her problem, not his.

I'm an old "silver back" well qualified to give this Incel some advice, here we go:

Don't be a dick.

Take a shower, sometimes two, use soap and a decent shampoo

Lose that fucking neckbeard

Don't be a dick

Rethink your clothing choices, you look like shit.

Get rid of your god damn stocking hat beanie, what are you 9 years old?

Don't be a dick

You have bags under your eyes, get some sleep and stop eating Cheetos, look at your hands.

Internet porn is not an accurate portrayal of life, the chances of ever getting a blow job in a public rest room are like 9,999,999,999,999,to 1. Even if you offer to pay a professional for it, the odds don't change that much. A pro would say, "Are you out of your fucking mind? You're an asshole." .

Don't be a dick

Buy good deodorant, Tom's of Maine all natural is nice, so is their toothpaste. Don't pur cologne or aftershave all over yourself either and forget about AXE, it's so obvious you may as well roll in shit.

Once you get yourself cleaned up and happen to strike up a conversation with a woman, you need to listen and quit talking about your shit, your problems, your interests and especiall don't talk about wanting to get laid. And this is important, even if half her boobs are hanging out, keep your eyes on hers you dummy.

Don't be a dick

If you look and act like you really need to get laid and especially deserve to get laid, you won't get laid, it's that simple, understand?


Quit spending your time on 4chan, you're fucked up enough already ( 1.)

Don't be a dick.

See this woman, chances are she has heard every bullshit line from every cheap hustler and from every kind of asshole walking. She hears it everyday at work and at play. Of course she'd like to meet an attractive guy, she's an attractive woman for christ's sake. Why can't you get that through your head? Now, If the attractive guy is an asshole/dick to her, she'll walk and should. I've seen plenty of beautiful women with average or below average looking guys, why? Because he's a nice human being, in other words, he's not a dick. This works in the other direction too, look around. 

My old man told me a long time ago, 'you deserve what you earn" and he also said, don't be a dick.. 

So get your shit together and quit feeling sorry for yourself. You're acting like a dumb fuck and that makes you a dick. Dumb fucks and dicks don't ever get laid, look at your friends, for chrissakes. 



( 1.) Discussions in incel forums are often characterized by resentment, misanthropy, self-pity, self-loathing, misogyny, racism, a sense of entitlement to sex, and the endorsement of violence against sexually active people. The Southern Poverty Law Center described the subculture as "part of the online male supremacist ecosystem" that is a member of their list of hate groups, and self-described incels have committed at least four mass murders in North America. In total, forty-five people have been killed in five events since 2014 by people who may be considered incels.

We were there at the beginning...

A girl I went to high school with is organizing a reunion this August, Karen is a retired sales executive living in Denver and she is certainly, as we used to say in our days at Central High, a good shit.

Karen asked me to pull together some musical memories from our teen years, from the days long before she drinks and enjoys an extremely dry martini on a daily basis. 

Karen spent her school days under the eyes and the thumb of her father, who was the principal of every damn school she attended from elementary through high school as Karen moved through the school system, so did her dad's career path. Or as she told me, “Do you have any idea what that was like?”

Karen’s father was my principal in Jr. high and high school, so I do. Then again I didn’t have to ride to school with him every morning either.

At Central, Karen’s dad hired, as his assistant, a big thug named Loberg as his enforcer. Mr. Loberg’s entire focus was on keeping high school boys on the straight and narrow. His specialty was the “dress code” and anything he perceived as a “bad attitude.” To say his views were narrow would be an understatement. Some of my classmates got to know him later in life say he was a hell of a guy. I read his obit a few years ago and apparently, he was. Oh well.

I’m wandering away from the subject at hand. Loberg used to call me on that from time to time, so did Karen’s dad when he booted me from 9^th grade English for not turning state’s evidence on just who started a fight during class. I tried to explain to him if only the teacher had used her authority instead of running screaming from the room it would have been over in a few seconds because neither of the participants knew a thing about fighting. He didn't buy it. I was the only one who paid a price and had to retake 9^th grade English in summer school. It turned out going to summer school was a good thing, but that’s another story.

Research shows that musical taste and preferences begin to develop at 10 years of age, when I was 10 when all my classmates were 10, there was one rock and roll record on the Billboard charts for the entire year, Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock”, slim pickings I’d say. It was number 2 for the year, the number one song? Perez Prado’s “Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White”. The “Ballad of Davey Crockett charted 3 times by three different artists, Bill Hayes(?) Fess Parker, who played Davey in the movie, and good old Tennessee Ernie Ford, TEF also had a hit with “16 Tons”

In ‘56 things chang1956 added, a lot, Elvis, Buddy Holly, Chuck Berry, The Platters, Gene Vincent, Carl Perkins, Fats Domino, Little Richard, The Diamonds, The Cadillacs and some guy named Johnny Cash. There was still a lot of tunes charting that my mother and her friends liked, but…

57 added the Everly Brothers, the Diamonds, Ricky Nelson, and more. The Bobbettes, a black girl group from New York had a crossover hit with “Mr. Lee”.

58 added Richie Valens to our record collections with “Donna” and “LaBamba”, Little Anthony and the Imperials and more and more black artists were getting played and we liked it, in fact, we decided we liked Fats Domino and Little Richard singing their own songs better than Pat Boone doing vanilla versions of them. We weren’t ready for Etta James, but we were getting closer. Etta’s “I’d Rather Go Blind” would have scared the crap out of us. Maybe?

We watched “teen movies” with black groups like the Satins singing to an all-white audiences in a night club filled with young, sophisticated honkies. I.B. Johnson said to me, “Black kids like me used to laugh our asses off at those movies, cuz we knew way no in hell the Satins would be playing at Sardi's in New fucking York.”

As we moved on we got Dion, the young Beach Boys, "Baby it's You" by the Shirelles, Ray Charles, Smokey Robinson, and the Miracles, Mary Wells singing "Two Lovers" We wanted better songwriting and we got it from Smokey and Carole King and Bob Dylan. Imagine a teenaged girl from Brooklyn writing songs like “Natural Woman” and “Will you Still Love Me Tomorrow”…

We should be glad Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys told his domineering old man to piss up a rope when he wanted Brian and his brothers and cousins to sing like the Four god dammed Freshman.

We were on the cutting edge of change, the Baby Boom Generation, our open-minded approach and acceptance of music of all kinds opened the doors for musicians of our generation from all over the world and changed the soundtrack of our lives for the better. Think the Beatles, The Stones, Santana, Eric Clapton, the Byrds, Linda Ronstadt, Neil Young, Van Morrison, they fill a book. One of our classmates Dick Peterson founded Blue Cheer. Dick is considered the "Godfather" of heavy metal bass. RIP Dickie.

 I’ll never forget the night Tom Micklin and I were riding in his mother’s Oldsmobile 98 at 1 in the morning, we were seniors in high school drinking illegal beer. Somehow we found John R “waaaayy down south in Dixie” on WLAC in Nashville on the radio and heard BB King for the first time, he was singing, ‘You’ve Done Lost Your Good Thing.” John R followed it up with teenaged Carla Thomas singing “B-A-B-Y” when the song finished we lost the AM skip. Damn...

Grandma was wearing a hat...

When I stopped, as the old man used to say, "putting my feet under his table",  I moved into a rat's nest of an apartment with two friends. The apartment was over a bar, you got to it up a dark staircase, one bulb hanging on a wire. On the lower level it smelled like stale beer and at the top it smelled like bad cooking, dirty underwear and whiskey. Those smells came from the apartment across the hall from ours. Oscar, our alcoholic, next door neighbor was a retired power plant worker. Oscar lived alone and spent most of his time at the bar downstairs. When old Oscar wasn't on his stool at the bar, he was cooking up stuff that really smelled bad, bad enough that if I was hungry when I came home from work, I'd lose my appetite.

It was in the mid 60's when my pals and I moved in that summer. We had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room and one bath. The second bedroom was  interesting, you had to go through the bathroom to get to your bed and the bedroom had no door. The other bedroom had no door either, my roommate Tom found a door, it had 8 glass panels. I opted to sleep in the living room.

Think about that...

One weekend, both my roommates were gone somewhere, I think Tom went home and Don, who knows where the hell he went. I had the place to myself. I had big plans.

Did I ever...

I invited my girlfriend over so we could play house, for the entire weekend, just the two of us. She came over on Friday night. Young Miss B was as glad to be away from her roomies as I was to be away from mine.

Over dinner, in my car at the Kegs, I explained we had only one thing we had to do on Saturday, a late breakfast with my grandparents. She was fine with that, me too because I loved and needed free meals. Grandma also thought Miss B was such a sweet girl which was in my favor.

Friday night, Miss B and I killed a 5th of Smirnoff and a quart of orange juice while we danced the night away to Wilson Pickett, Sam and Dave and her favorites, the Righteous Brothers. Sometime during the 5th or 6th play of "Unchained Melody" We tumbled onto my hide-a-bed with the scrub blue operating room sheets, we did what ever we could manage and passed out.

Saturday morning I heard a knock on the door, not thinking clearly, I said, "come on in, it's open." The lock was broken, Don had kicked it in one night when he lost his keys.

The door opened and standing there is my grandfather in a nice, gray summer suit, smelling of aftershave. Next to him is my grandmother, in a pale blue summer dress and a hat with little white flowers. 

Think about that...

Miss B and I are naked under the blue operating room sheet. Not only are we naked, we're hung over and we're sweaty because it's about 95 degrees in the apartment. Miss B was so frightened, she pulled the sheet over her head. I sat up and said, as nonchalantly as possible under the circumstance, "Gee, what time is it?" Grandpa shot his sleeve, looked at his watch and said, "15 minutes late for breakfast." Grandma said nothing, she just looked like she was going to cry. Grandpa continued, "We'll meet you two down in the car in ten minutes."

Miss B and I, scrambled around, I showered first, while I shaved she showered. She pulled her hair back in a wet pony tail. We both got dressed and went down the filthy staircase, crossed the street and climbed in the back of grandpa's Caddy. We were scared to death.

During the drive, My grandmother, turned to us, smiled and sweetly said, "What have you two been up to?" Miss B's pretty face lit up, "I'm going to summer school, last night we were studying and it just got so late, we're listening to music and I've got a paper due..." She was talking a hundred miles an hour, grandma is smiling and listening to Miss B's free association chatter. 

I catch Grandpa's eye in the rear view mirror, he gives me a smirk. 

We had a nice breakfast, we made polite conversation. Nothing was said. I think I had pancakes and bacon, Miss B kept talking between bites of her Denver omelette, she never stopped and grandma never stopped smiling. 

After we were dropped off, Miss B dropped her happy girl act, "Do you think they'll say anything, I mean, my Dad knows the judge."

"Honey, if anything was ever going to be said, we would have heard it all when the door opened." 

They never said a word, to anyone. Years later I told this story to my mother, she got pissed at me and started in about my behavior, what an embarrassment I was to my family, etc. I felt like I was 16 years old again.

I told Mom, "The statute of limitations has long passed on this, so dial it back." She did, started laughing and said, "I can just see Mamma in her little hat, standing in the doorway."  

Still a gear head

I couldn’t sleep, I was wide awake at 3:00. I finally rolled out of bed and got ready, I gave Cakes a kiss at 3:30 and got on the road to Santa Cruz. There was no traffic on 101 as I headed north. I set the cruise control at 80 and kept my eyes on the road and the mirrors.

An hour and a half later I was south of Santa Maria. Still no traffic. I was driving my 2007 Corvette Z51. I slowed down to 20mph, shifted into 1st gear and floored it, I shifted at the 6,000 rpm red line, 1st then 2nd, then 3rd, then 4th I shifted into 5th gear at 140mph. The heads up display showed 168 in 5th gear. I lifted off the accelerator and let the the car lose momentum. While I was accelerating I’d kept my eyes ahead on the road, a long way ahead. As the speed dropped I cautiously looked around, I was slowing down but everything except the road ahead was a blur. Road signs whipped by, too fast to read. The speed dropped under 100, then 75 and I reengaged the cruise control and continued north to see my daughter and her kids.

168 is the fastest I’ve ever driven a car, the 2nd fastest? I hit the 155mph speed limiter on our AMG Mercedes one night on the Mass Turnpike. According to all the road tests a Z51 has a top speed of 186. I did 20 mph less than that and never shifted into 6th gear.

Modern high performance cars are mechanical miracles, the Corvette (and the Benz) settled down over 100mph, the design and aerodynamics literally push the car down on the road the faster you go. Both cars were stable and comfortable at speed. As fast as it was, the Corvette routinely delivered gas mileage in the high 20’s even the low 30’s when I drove at the speed limit. I never got less than 20 in town.

The amazing thing is as I accelerated the Corvette, the car never slowed down, it accelerated as hard over 100 mph as it did between 20 and 100. I didn’t time it, but I know from start to finish my high speed run from 20 to 168 took less than a minute. Checking the road test numbers bear me out. Funny the car had a built in timer, I could have timed my run, but didn’t think of it.



The first time I believe I drove a car over 100mph was my dad’s buddy Bob Anton’s ‘56 Thunderbird.

I was 13 years old. I don’t think I really topped 100, the ‘56 Bird’s top speed with a 312 V8 and a stick was 113 mph. Hard to believe, a basic Toyota Corolla with an automatic would kick the T-Bird’s ass.

I use Amazon Prime, it gives me a chance to read new magazines and delete them when I’m finished. I downloaded the July Car and Driver yesterday on my Kindle. Good issue, very good.

C&D tested the Ford EcoSport tiny SUV, it has a 3 cylinder turbo charged engine. In the performance test, the writer said, “your grandmother could knit a sweater in the time it takes to get to 60, have her keep knitting and by the time the EcoSport finishes the 1/4 mile she would have a turtle neck and a pair of mittens done.” So not all the new cars are that great. The EcoSport is about as fast as its great, great, grandpa, Bobby's old T-Bird, the car I thought I drove 100mph.

Did you know Rolls Royce is building an SUV, an all wheel drive, 3 ton SUV? They are, it’s called the Cullinan and it’s even got a low range! It has traction settings like sand, mud, snow, etc. Base price $325,000.

RR offers 90 different colors for the leather interior and they’ll paint it pretty much the color you want, all it takes is money.

One of the options RR offers on the Cullinan is the “Viewing Suite” two well appointed leather seats electrically emerge from the tailgate, a table, matching the wood trim inside the car, appears between the two seats. You can sit back, enjoy tailgating at your alma mater, watch a polo match or your kid’s soccer game. No matter what you’re into, Rolls Royce has you covered. Like to fly fish, you can order a fishing module, like to shoot trap, you can order a shooting module, anything you want, customized for your taste and desires. You can order your Cullinan set up to be driven by your chauffeur with a glass partition that separates you from the hired help. The car comes with custom glassware for in flight cocktails.

The Cullinan is quite the beast,it has 563 horsepower from it’s 6.75 liter V12 and a top speed of 155mph.

You know where they debuted the Cullinan? Abu Dhabi. RR feels the oil rich countries of the middle east will be their biggest market for the Cullinan.

Know what a “Glider” is?  It’s a new truck with all the latest in safety and comfort features built by Peterbilt, Freightliner, Kenworth and others. They sell the truck without a drive train to aftermarket companies who install rebuilt pre-2002 engines, transmissions and running gear in the “new” truck. They do it to beat the EPA diesel standards. The gliders put out 430 times the particulates of a modern truck. Our new trump EPA has loosened the rules and are allowing the glider builders to build and sell 3 times the number of trucks allowed under the old rules. The glider builders contributed over 600k to republicans in 2016.

ZF the German transmission maker has 29 locations in the US, in their main plant in South Carolina, they employ 8,000 American workers. ZF has had facilities in the US since 1880. I wonder if anyone in the administration even cares about pissing them off?

C&D interviewed engineers from all the major automakers, they asked about the lowering of the fleet mileage goals, consensus was it is stupid and makes no sense.