Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Mavs-Raptors

November 10, 2009

A friend was kind enough to invite us to his company’s luxury box seats to watch the Mavs-Raptors game. Luxury box seats are usually pretty sweet and, aside from the free stuff inside, the boxes at the AAC are good. However, it can be hard to focus on the game in one of these things as only a few seats look out, and there are so many screens inside that you are more inclined to watch on TV than actually at the court.Mavs lux box IMG00071

Now, I’ll admit that I am a bigger hockey fan than basketball fan but, seriously, what the F is up with the NBA?

In the NHL, there are TV timeouts as there are in every American sport. In fact, as there are in every sport, European soccer notwithstanding. In the NHL, there are two intermissions, during which kids skate on the ice and fans who seem never to have seen a hockey stick try to score a goal from the red line.

The AAC is also a bit of a travesty. During the intermissions at Stars games, small blimps are released from the rafters to rain down coupons on the crowd. There are three advertorial dirigibles: A giant red chili, from Chili’s. A giant burrito, from Chipotle. And a blue blimp from some diamond-seller.

The giant chili drops coupons for what I can only imagine is some sort of heart-stoppingly rich and/or large platter of some kind of fried food. It also looks more than a little like a dog phallus.

The giant burrito is supposed to resemble a Chipotle burrito wrapped in foil. It looks more like a suppository, or possibly, a Steely Dan/Silk Torpedo.SilkTorpedo

Image (C) 1975 Swan Song

On top of that, at every TV timeout, the dancers come out, as do Champ, the Mavs main mascot, and Mavs Man. Champ is a large blue-headed horse-man that is equal parts Muppet and Nick Bottom. Mavs Man is a terrible amalgamation of a human, a basketball, and a kabuki mask. Together, this nightmarish duo eats up long lapses in action with trampoline-assisted dunks and various fan-participation inanity.

mavs-mascots

I hope I wake up soon.

Photo (C) 2009, Dallas Mavericks

The one thing I’ll give this horrific pair is that they are spot-on with the t-shirt gun. People LOVE free t-shirts. We should stop building drones and M4s and just ship t-shirt cannons to our troops. A few weeks of lobbing cheap, NBA-logo t’s into caves and the Taliban will be just fine. In case anyone is wondering what to get me for a present, a custom air cannon would be sweet.

What I can’t understand about the NBA, aside from the way the refs seem to call fouls to suit their whims, is the way that A.) Music blares during play (including some John Cougar. How many NBA players, whose average age is probably 23, actually listen to Mellancamp?), and B.) People sit right on the floor. Case in point, the way Bron slapped Jay-Z five during the Knicks game last week. Check out this quote from WCBSTV.com: “James said he was able to congratulate a few of the [Yankees] players during the game.” During the game? I hope this means at some break in the action, but the fact that Bron was able to high-five Jay-Z while running back on D, makes me think otherwise.

Is this And One? Turn the music off, unless it’s the organ playing the “defense” cheer or something. I love BronBron, and of course, the Yanks, but play the game. I don’t see some hockey player backchecking and waving to someone behind the boards. Play the game!

Anyway, the Mavs tore the Raptors apart, and Dirk put on a show, dropping 29 in a 129-101 win.

Quick Updates

November 6, 2009

The beetle has not returned since yesterday. A friend of mine emailed to say it was a cricket. He is wrong. He’s too crazy looking (the beetle, not my friend). I actually saw some sort of grasshopper downtown a few weeks ago and was taken aback. One, because it was in the CBD; two, because he was big; three, I didn’t know arthropods were big Christian Lit readers. This guy was repeatedly jumping against the window of a Christian bookstore.

Also, my six-legged friend out on the terrace is not a cricket; crickets are more oblong and only their back legs arch. this guy has broad shoulders, a distinctively separate head, and crazy legs. If you look at the scientific classification of both beetles and crickets, they diverge after Class. I was never very good at science of any kind, so let’s hear something from someone with at least a high-passing grade in high school biology. I’m sure he’s some sort of long-horned beetle. He was back yesterday but I don’t see him this morning.

Also, I’ve added some photos from the Robert Randolph show. Check out the Easter Bunny playing guitar, and a (slightly edited) pic of our costumes. Yesterday’s post has a Yankees poll, and we still don’t have a car. However, I went back to Elm Fork with my Yankees-fan neighbor and I managed to put up a 22 on the skeet range. Still not above the 23 average I’d like, but it’s improvement. We’re going back with his wife’s sister and brother-in-law next week, so I’ll be sure to put up a 24.

This post will seem bland without an image, so here’s another shot of our lush hanging garden in the ruddy, waning light of an autumnal sunset.

Dallas Forest Sunset IMG00068

The sun setting over a verdant Dallas copse

A Happy Dallas Yankee

November 5, 2009
godzilla1

Laying Waste to Philly's Dreams

Way back when, in ’96, my brothers and I were offered two tickets to a fall game one night when my folks were out of town. I, as the youngest and having a lot of homework, did not attend. My brothers, never ones to neglect their baby bro, brought back a Tino shirt for me and I have worn it – despite the fact that it is huge on me and makes me look 14 – with great pride and only in key situations. I have not donned it all season except for the two games I attended at the great new Yankee Stadium. With the Core Four of Jeter, Pettitte, Jorge, and Mo playing in Game 6, I felt that the spirit of someone as classy as Tino Martinez would help. I wore my Martinez shirt for good luck, and it worked.
Class
I watched the game last night with a fellow New Yorker who lives in the building. His TV is a 52″ LCD, where ours is 15″ something-or-other. Seriously, I think the picture-in-picture on his screen is larger than our glorified Viewmaster. My neighbor, being neighborly, invited me over to witness Game 6 on an exceptional piece of electronics, as well as to enjoy some burgers, beer, and Bronx camaraderie.

His wife had a couple of friends over, one from Queens, originally, and the other from “way south Jersey”, clearly a Phillies “fan”. It is difficult to watch an important game with someone who is a casual fan. However, it is worse to watch a game with a casual fan of the opposite team, who insists they know more about the game than you do. When Tex got tagged by a pitch, she told me “he stands all over the plate.” I asked her how she could say that when Utley is a notorious plate-crowder (and has led the league in HBPs). She says “No, Teixeira and A-Rod crowd the plate more. Trust me.” Oh. OK. She also called Jorge a whiner, but I’m not going to start getting all negative here. At 7-3, she headed home and we watched the finale in relative peace.

Andy didn’t pitch brilliantly, but he was confident and unflappably so. There is no one else I’d rather have pitching. Meanwhile, Damaso Marte was an unsung hero, ripping strikes and getting all fired up. Of course, when the doors open in the outfield, and Mariano, glove held in his pitching hand, trots onto the field and starts running to the mound, and the first licks of ‘Enter Sandman’ play, I get goosebumps every time. It’s then that you realize that he is the greatest of all time.

When the Yanks won in ’98, I got a call that Friday in the morning from a friend of mine who was going down to the parade. It was a Friday and, well, I had school. I figured my parents would never let me go, but I asked all the same. My dad thought for a moment and said “Sure, why not, how often does this happen?” Of course, the Pinstripes would post two more championships in the next two years, but we didn’t know that. I headed downtown where we got front row spots in the Canyon of Heroes and, when I saw Tino almost half a mile down the street, I started a chant. By the time he was in front of us, I’d started thousands upon thousands of people chanting his name. There were so many fans there that day, that it took over an hour once people started leaving just for us to get down the side street to the avenue. I left my house that morning around 7:30am, and didn’t get to school until well after 3:30, late for practice. The Yanks won that series in four games against San Diego. Who was the winning pitcher in that final game? Andy Pettitte. Who was the closer? Mo.

The hardest part about watching the game was being unable to go to Luke’s for the celebration. Dallas is not much of a baseball town, so my night ended with beers at home. Nonetheless, I was thrilled by Matsui‘s performance and happy to see another Yankee class-act get justly honored.

In respect to the Yanks, I’ve altered the blog header. And below, Sterling’s call.

Even the Beetles are Bigger in Texas

November 4, 2009

You read that right. They got big bugs here. It may be that they also love Rubber Soul more in the Great State of Texas than they do elsewhere, but right now, I’m talking creepy-crawlies.

We recently got some plants for our terrace. They’re really nice; they add a bit of color.

Dallas Heath MG00067
Country Livin’

But since then, we seem to be popular. Granted, I sit at this window all day and see all sorts of bugs go by: flies, bees, moths, ladybugs, and for some reason, a lot of hornets. I don’t know why, but there is clearly a wasps’ nest nearby. One of them got in here one morning, and I was not pleased.
I caught him and let him go, but you’d have thought I was wrangling a cobra the way I was sweating.

So why does this guy keep coming back? And can anyone tell me what he is?

Big Ass Beetle IMG00066
Godzilla!!!

He’s slow-moving and persistent. He first flew over and landed on the window. I pounded on it a couple of times (it’s double-paned) and he took off. The next day, there he was flying around, eventually landing right on the terrace. I watched him for a while then finally swept him off with a recently purchased Walmart broom, and he flew across the street. Not an hour later he was back.

He, or she, doesn’t seem interested in the plants, but maybe these little guys stuck to the windows are aphids and thus the appearance of ladybugs (who I like, everyone does), and then maybe this bruiser likes to eat them. I don’t know, but he’s big. At least, he’s big for a bug in the city.

Remember, I’m a New Yorker. I’ve seen cockroaches as big as rats, rats as big as cats, cats as big as dogs and, OK, fine those were mountain lions, but still. I’ve seen some nasties in my day – centipedes and ants and spiders of all sorts. Why is this guy bothering me? Cuz he’s a huge freaking beetle and I’m just blocks away from Downtown Dallas. Perhaps he came from a construction site across the way. Maybe he’s migratory and just likes the view. Maybe he was dumped in the sewer and someone spilled some radioactive ooze down there and he was trained by a humanoid rat to become a master of martial arts. We’ll see.

splinter
Ultimate mastering comes not from the body, but from the mind.

Image (C)1987 Murakami Wolf Swenson Productions.

There are more important things to worry about tonight, namely beating the Phills. Go Yankees.

Robert Randolph at the Dallas House of Blues

November 1, 2009

Friday, I was basically waiting for the Stars game to come around, checked my email and saw an update from the Robert Randolph and the Family Band site saying that the band was coming to Dallas on Halloween. I’m not much of a fanboy, per se, and I hate signing up for updates like that, but if you’ve ever seen a RRFB show, you’ll know they are electric, often hilarious affairs.

After a few quick emails to gauge interest, I headed over to the House of Blues to buy tickets (and avoid a Ticketmaster surcharge) and was ready to pay $22.50 for SRO tickets. SRO at the House of Blues means no seat, but you get to stand right up against the stage and have easy access to the bar.

Doors opened at 8pm and I rushed my companions to get there around 8:45 or so. Around 9:15, Black Joe Lewis came on. BJL comes out in jeans, a dark t-shirt and a baseball hat. His five-piece band is comprised of five skinny white guys in skinny jeans, white shirts, and horned-rimmed glasses. Joe wails like a cross between James Brown and Lou Rawls. The horn section is a nice touch and adds a great funk/soul vibe to songs with names such as ‘Sugarfoot’ and ‘Big Booty Woman.’

After a decent set, Joe Lewis leaves and the HoB finally starts to fill. Clearly, these people knew about the opening act, unlike me. About a third of the crowd in the pit were dressed up, including one great one of balloon boy.

RRFB finally came on stage sometime after 10:30 (Game 3 was on and the band is from NJ, so I’m sure they were kicking it backstage, watching Pettitte and the Yanks take care of business).

Robert was in a white suit and fedora, a la Smooth Criminal. Danyel was rocking the red Thriller get-up, including a sick jeri-curl wig.

Thrilla

Danyel, the thing with 40 eyes.

Likewise, Marcus was pushing the 80′s style with a Beat It costume. Jason Crosby, the keyboardist was wearing a large black fedora, stringy black wig, and white surgical mask. The guitarist (not sure who it was) wore a military-style jacket that MJ used to wear.

RRFB Don't Stop IMG00060

The band started out with “Thriller”, heading right into their own “Nobody.” Along with some of their best-known songs, including “Good Times” and “I Need More Love”, the band played “Man in the Mirror” and did the usual “Ladies Night” where they pull girls from the audience to dance on stage, as well as some later songs where they bring amateurs up to play guitar. This was particular funny this time as the first guy they pulled up was, well, not good. He was joined on stage my a Ricky Ricardo lookalike, complete with mini-conga. When Robert asked him to leave, the guy said, “but I’m from South America!” He batted the mini-drum for a few bars before he and the strummer got hauled off by HoB security. A guy was actually hauled up onstage who could play the pedal steel (see below).

IMG_7817

The Easter Bunny (and unknown guest) plays at the House of Blues during Robert Randolph and the Family Band Halloween concert.

Finally, another guy was pulled on stage… dressed in a full Easter Bunny costume. It took a minute to get the guitar strap over this enormous ears and head, but he got set, found out what key they were in, and kicked ass. After the finale, as the band threw their various picks and drumsticks into the band, I saw one fingerpick arch slowly into the blue light of the stage. Unfortunately, Betsy had been buying Jameson shots, and I’d been downing Shiners like they were running out of the stuff, so the pick bounced of my palm and skittered away.

Incidentally, I was wearing a captain’s hat, blazer, ascot tie, and white pants. Betsy was in a tennis skirt and polo. Only two people figured out that we were Judge Smails and Lacy Underall.

MowMyLawn

A nice change from dreary old Manhattan

I guess you need something blatant or timely. Our companion was Mr Chow from the Hangover, and looked the part, but the real spectacle was on stage, so I wasn’t too worried about how we appeared.

We wandered out, hitched a ride with our friend to get some food at Cafe Brazil on Cedar Springs. as it’s a notoriously gay neighborhood, the costumes there were excellent, and my open shirt, silk tie, and nautical theme got a few quiet cat-calls, despite being accompanied by a blonde girl in a tennis outfit.

Drunk and hungry, we ordered quite an array of food at 1:30am. Biscuits and gravy followed by migas for me. It was an interesting, albeit satisfying, entry into the world of late-night eats in the Great State of Texas. Southern cooking meets Tex-Mex. Cafe Brazil definitely hits the spot that late (and that sauced) and thankfully, they don’t serve beer. I ordered one despite REALLY not needing it. Thanks Cafe Brazil.

Stars vs. Panthers

October 30, 2009

I don’t have many friends here in Dallas. I like to think that it’s not because of offensive body odor or boring conversation but more that I just am new here. Luckily for me, one of the few friends I have made has access to Stars tickets. As an avid hockey fan – I could be called the Dallas Ranger, but that conjures up a certain MLB team – I am thrilled to be offered seats for any hockey game. Living as close as I do to the AAC, it’s even better.

I went to a game a few weeks back, sat in the upper bowl, and watched the Bruins shut out the Stars who were without Ott or Modano (or Morrow, I believe). The seats were high, but the view was unobscured and I was able to see the whole length of the ice. I also love the National Anthem at these games. When the singer sings “Whose broad stripes and bright stars” the whole arena joins in and shouts “STARS!” While I respect the solemnity of the anthem, it’s a pretty exciting phenomenon.

Stars Bruins IMG00036

Upper Bowl at the AAC

Friday, I was offered tickets and attended with a friend who, though not necessarily the biggest hockey fan, is a native Texan and sports fan. Compared to the previous game, these seats were, in a word, better.

Stars Panthers IMG00055

Center Ice

It is amazing to have good seats at a hockey game. The key is not to be too close so that you lose the puck, but close enough that you see just how fast the game is. The Panthers came out flying, crashing the net and scoring three quick goals. The Stars managed to rally a bit and netted two before the first intermission. In the second period, Florida went up by two, but the Stars came back again, potting two. Each team scored one in the third, sending the game to a quick OT. Neither team scored until the Panthers popped one top shelf on Alex Auld in the shootout.

Despite a heartbreaking loss for the Stars, it was an incredibly exciting game and I can’t remember the last time I went to a game and saw 10 goals in regulation. After the game, I actually ran into one the of the Stars in my building. He was definitely upset over the tough loss, and when I asked him whether he liked the shootout, he shrugged and offered a very political “it’s exciting for the fans.”

The Stars are fourth in the Pacific Division and are tied with the Islanders for most OT losses in the league with five. Those five extra points would have them leading the conference and in a three-way tie for first in the league along with the Pens and Avs. While I’m still looking for the Blueshirts to come through (they’re in second behind the Pens in the Atlantic), I’ve quickly found myself pulling for the Stars.

Elm Fork Shooting Range

October 29, 2009

With a rental car for a few days, I felt it was time to get out and do some of those things that most non-Texans associate with the Great State of Texas, namely cars and guns. Driving to the “local” Dick’s Sporting Goods took about twenty minutes. After parking in the most massive complex of garages I have ever seen, I couldn’t find Dick’s. After walking around and finally asking someone, I drove a few more minutes and parked no fewer than three more times before actually being close enough to the Dick’s that it wouldn’t be a feat of strength to carry a case of .12-gauge shells back to the car.

After some searching, I found some Winchester shells and took them to the counter to have them priced. I was then lauded by the kid behind the counter for doing “quick math” of $6.95 x 10. I don’t mean to pick on him, but he was about 19 and seemed generally confused by shotgun ammunition. When I said I wanted the whole case, is comment was “that’s a lot ammo.” It’s not.

Not only that, but he thought a case was 200 shells. I’m not mathematician, but 10 boxes at 25 shells/box, again is pretty simple arithmetic. I wouldn’t give him such a hard time if he wasn’t the counter clerk in the “Lodge” (aka, hunting) section of Dick’s.

He then tried to sell me a .308 carbine for $1499 by saying that he was going to buy it himself if it was still there next week. Maybe next time.

I hopped in the car and made it over to Elm Fork, not without a bit of difficulty. The range is tucked away off a spur road along a bleak stretch of strip malls. However, once inside, the staff are exceptionally nice and helpful. The skeet layout is pretty standard public course: the ranges are side by side – I believe there are six of them – and range 1 low house shares a wall with range 2 high house, so missed birds come into view from either side. The system is not a pay-in-advance card or key system. You are given a large box controller that can be set for delays or report/true pairs.

I ventured out, dropped one of the first four and then the machines stopped. You place the control box on a handcart with a raised platform and wheel it from station to station. It’s a bit of a nuisance and I guess the cord came loose. With some help, I was up and running, and shooting terribly.

The nice thing is, despite the mechanical troubles which cost me nearly 15 birds, I wasn’t charged for those I couldn’t shoot. I shot four rounds, going 17, 17, 21, 18. 73, just pitiful. As my first day of the season, in new surroundings, and without the luxury of a trapper, I was just happy to be shooting again. My face ached from shooting field-style. I had a three-second delay on the controls so I could load, close the breech, hit the button, prep, and wait. The tell-tale whir of the trap arm gave me an extra half second, but I was still mounting the gun terribly and smacking myself in the cheek with the stock.

Rounds cost $8.50 each, but I bought a 10-round pass for $75. I’ll be back. The 90s are waiting for me there…

Mother Superior

Like a Lizard on a Windowpane...

White Rock Lake

October 27, 2009

Without much to do on a particularly beautiful day, I headed over to White Rock Lake in our rented Corolla – we have yet to decide on a car to buy. The drive is fairly easy, though the park is not necessarily marked well leading up to any of the entrances. Without too much difficulty, I found a place to pull in, park, and reassemble my bike which I’d taken apart to put in the trunk. It’s times like these I miss my Jeep.

White Rock Lake reminds me a bit of the camp I went to during the days in the summertime. It was a sort-of country club with an enormous man-made “lake” (it was a pool). The place seems artificially wild. That is not the same as wildly artificial. The paths are generally well-kept though the concrete is splitting in places and are not, as a whole, well marked. I took a couple of wrong turns, ending up on a rough hiking trail at one point, and nearly biking onto a highway on another. As fast as I can pedal, I try to steer clear of freeways, you know? This is especially true in the Great State of Texas where, despite our friend Lance Armstrong calling it home, drivers are pretty much oblivious to anyone not driving a pick-up, let alone using a non-petrol-fueled vehicle.

Despite a few minor navigational mishaps, I liked WRL. There were plenty of other bikers present, though there were the requisite number of clueless dogwalkers wandering the path much as there are on the Katy Trail. I am often flabbergasted at the way people behave on running/bike paths. Instead of treating it like a thoroughfare, they act as though they are walking down a corridor in their own homes. I am all for sharing the road, but if you were in your car on the highway, would you just stop in the middle to change a tire? No, you would pull to the side. Why not do the same to tie your shoelace?

This is a problem that is pervasive across the human race, not just in the Great State of Texas. In fact, New York is notorious for this form of idiocy. Think of Central Park, where people walk into oncoming bike traffic. Would they do that if cars were coming at them? I think not. Would they randomly veer off course if they were on the Deegan? Well, maybe. The Deegan is like Road Warrior, but you get what I’m saying.
Anyway, enough ranting. Here are a few (Blackberry) photos of WRL:

White Rock Lake IMG00046

Downtown D from WRL

White Rock Lake IMG00048

White Rock Lake IMG00049

WRL in Autumn

Texas Flood

October 25, 2009

Today was a big day in Dallas as the Cowboys stormed to a big win at home over the Falcs, putting smiles on Dallas faces. However, the real storm was coming in from the North. The day started slightly overcast but was warm and humid. By evening, the sky was ominous. What usually looks like this:

The Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal are mine to see...

The Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal are mine to see...

was socked in with fog.

Dark clouds are rollin' in...

Dark clouds are rollin' in...

As the sun went down, I battened down the hatches and got ready to watch the Giants and the Yanks. Big Blue was up against Arizona while the Pinstripes played Game 6 of the ALCS against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim of California West Coast Pacific Rim.

While columns of rain dragged across the city and pounded the empty streets below, thunder boomed past the window like trucks on a freeway. The lightning was about the best show I’ve seen. The landscape means the storm came in unimpeded and so, lightning cut huge fissures in the night sky with a strobe-like frequency.

The tempest lasted longer than the Giants who have, of late, been full of sound and fury, but the natural fireworks did not outshine Andy Pettitte and the Yanks. I must admit, even as a die-hard Yanks fan, I can see that the World Series is between two pretty detested teams. This would be like a Cowboys-Raiders Superbowl: unless you love the teams, you hate ‘em.

Go Yanks.

Automobiles: Must-haves and Mustangs

October 24, 2009

One of the ways I was enticed into coming to Dallas – aside from the jo of knowing that the Giants christened the new Dallas stadium – was that Betsy offered to buy me a car. Not just any car, either. I wanted a Challenger. It’s not my dream car (that would be a ’70 Boss 302), but I’d take either the ’70 Challenger or the new one. It was a pipedream, I knew – Betsy likes high-end luxury cars – but it was a nice thought anyway to imagine the rumble of my big Dodge engine tumbling down the sunlit Dallas streets.

Car shopping in Dallas was an interesting day. While we were expecting a slew of Swift Herberts to waste our time while we potentially wasted theirs, we were mostly pleasantly surprised. The first place we went to, we were greeted by Dick. Dick spent a good while trying to play to Betsy’s penchant towards luxury cars. He played the “appease the woman” card all he could, just barely letting us off the lot after almost two hours and a test drive in a nice pre-owned Mercedes coupe. As we were leaving, another couple were looking at the same Mercedes, leaving Dick to insist that we come back soon. He called while we were on our way to the next lot. Of course, having no car, we had cabbed it to the lot and were walking to the next one, a fact that caused Dick and his assistant to laugh heartily.

The next stop was at a beautiful dealership. Seriously, who knew that a car lot could be so nice. This place had marble floors, dark wood, a lounge with drinks and coffee and, most importantly, flatscreens with college football on. Oddly enough, the lounge was occupied by at least four or five men who did not appear to work at the dealership, nor did they appear to be car shopping. It’s one thing if we were at a department store and the men were watching TV while their wives shopped (“Psst! Over here, in Petites”), but this was a car dealership. I would have thought that the guys would have been at least mildly interested in the vehicles, not least of all because even if their wives were shopping, they’d like to know before she dropped upwards of $60K on a Merc.

Anyway, much like this next thing, maybe it’s a Texas thing. We were greeted and helped by Monty who took us to his office to chat. He offered us water, which we accepted. He said, “Well, help yourself,” and pointed to the lounge area. Very nice. Then, “we’ve gone green so we’ve got styrofoam cups.” I laughed. Seriously, I thought he was joking. I know you can recycle here in Texas, but I see very few blue cans. In fact, our building has just a few and they are hidden away in the garage. Monty meant, I guess, that they’d gotten rid of plastic bottles. Baby steps, though I’m not sure which way they’re walking.

We ended up not getting a car, but while waiting for a taxi to pick us up and drive us home, a mint condition ’67 Mustang, the color of a styrofoam cup, rolled into the parking lot. That made my day worthwhile, despite having been told all day how great an ’01 Lexus was, and how 100,000 miles
on an Acura was “practically nothing. If only they still made them like they used to, I’d have easily walked away with at least a couple.

2006-5-3_67MustangLineWeb-Large