"You know, a lot of guys are all about their rides. You can’t swing a dead cat in this town without hitting a civic that’s got a spoiler that looks like something off of a nuclear retro-rocket and a softball-launcher muffler that gives that beast the same dreamy hum as a poorly oiled weedwacker. And I think that’s just great. I’m sure the 112 horses that that bad boy cranks press your oversized sterling silver crucifix/dragon/Japanese symbol meaning “pimp†against your chest as you roar from 0-60 in an astonishing 18.4 seconds. I’m happy for you. Really, I am.
However I feel ode must be paid to the one true constant in life, the one reliable thing in this topsy-turvy world… the 1994 Toyota Corolla.
This luxurious, sleek, economy sedan has it all. Bumpers? You betcha. Wheels? Check. Some form of an exhaust system? Check and Mate, bitch. Let me tell you, there is no greater feeling than that of sliding your key into the Corolla’s ignition, grinning slyly at your passenger, and unleashing the fury of 110 Japanese horses on their ass. The look of simultaneous fear and ecstasy on your car-mates face says it all…you’ve just stepped into the C- unit (as it has come to be known), and you are in for the moderately-priced ride of your life."
read the full thing here
http://www.thephatphree.com/features.asp?SectionID=11&StoryID=780&LayoutType=1 
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