I'M JUST AN IMPALA LIVING IN A CADILLAC WORLD

Two days in a row now, I've gotten out of bed and my back feels like Oprah Winfrey had done the entire production of Riverdance on it.

Thank Buddah for Doan's Back Pills.

Well ...we're in the market for a new vehicle for my wife.

As some of you astute readers may know (it was the subject of my very first entry here) ... my wife drives the most embarrassing piece of shit car on the face of the earth.

A 1976 Chevy Impala.

For those of you who have no idea what a 1976 Chevy Impala looks like...imagine gorilla shit on wheels.

Got it??

We had it painted a few years back because its primary color was "rust".

Two years later...it's back to rust. The entire hood and trunk are nothing but rust.

Now...just because I don't like the damned thing, doesn't mean others don't appreciate it.

Gang members shed a tear when they see it drive down the road.

BLOOD #1: "Awww sheeit man...I'd kill my mama for that hooptie."

BLOOD #2: "You killed your mama last night, hommes."

BLOOD #1: "Snap! I musta been wacked on the crack, Lil' Snoop! Who go' be washin' my do-rag, now??"

....Sorry if I offended any gang members who may read Uncle Bob ...

Anyway...it's a perfect drive-by car. Room for 17 people in the back seat.

It's HUGE, I'm'a tellin' ya.

Anyway...we started our day of shopping for vehicles at our brand new Steak 'n' Shake restaurant here in town.

Susie and I LOVE Steak 'n' Shake. This is the first S'n'S opened in town (it opened on Wednesday) and we decided to have breakfast there.

One of the things we love about it is the restaurant's ability to give you HORRIBLE service no matter where you happen to visit it.

We sit and laugh at how bad the service is. The food's always great...the service sucks so bad that it's become a joke with us.

We had great service yesterday which kind of ruined the whole experience for us.

Luckily, there was a fly swarming around our food, so that made up for the good service.

We go to pay the bill, and I thought I had a $10 bill in my wallet.

Nope. It was a five dollar bill.

Susie had no money and they didn't accept checks or credit cards.

I was three dollars short in paying the bill.

The cashier was willing to let us go, owing S'n'S three bucks.

All of a sudden, I felt homeless. "Take pity on the goofy homeless guy and his pregnant wife. They probably live under a bridge."

I went out to the car and began picking up spare change out of the glove compartment and under the seats.

I rounded up $3.12.

That lucky waitress. A 12 cent tip.

I promised her I'd double her tip next time.

Oh yeah. She's REALLY looking forward to the homeless couple coming back to give her a quarter. Hell ... she probably won't be working there by the end of the week anyway. The place has been open four days and already has "Help Wanted" signs plastered all over the place.

We then went to test drive mini-vans.

Susie fell in love with the 2000 Pontiac Montana.

I'm no fool. I know you're not supposed to buy new cars right off the lot.

But hell...SOMEBODY has to.

We test drove a few more mini-vans, but it was the Montana that made Susie damp.

We came home and did some figuring on how much it would cost us each month.

Well over $500.

Per month.

Seeing as we have our first kid on the way and absolutely NO IDEA how much this little cretin is going to end up costing us, I kinda nixed the Montana idea.

Susie was visibly upset.

Visibly.

The wailing and thrashing around was a dead giveaway for me.

So...we've got to come up with some sort of Plan B. I explained to Suze that just because I was nixing "this" Montana...that doesn't mean she won't get a used one.

Or even a 1991 Ford Escort. There's still hope for that, too.

The thing is...we're running out of time. Tilting Steering Wheels were apparently not an option in 1976 and my wife's belly is starting to press against the steering wheel.

Junior's head is getting wedged against the steering wheel on a daily basis.

And I don't need my kid walking around with a steering wheel imprint on his forehead and me having to explain the whole damned thing to strangers.

SHIT! It's Fathers Day. That just dawned on me. Gotta go call Pops. Happy Father's Day to any Dads that may read this.

...All I can think of is Icebear right off hand. IF there's any others...for God's sakes...have a great day.

I hope your kid doesn't have a steering wheel scar.