This is Chuck.
Sure, Chuck is cute. As a matter of fact, I think we can all agree that with her googly eyes and flipped up windows—Chuck is cute af.
In a lot full of average cars like Saturns and Kias—Chuck is a showstopper. She’s even been known to elicit whistles, shouts, and catcalls on her weekly Sunday morning drives. And since she’s close to sixty, Chuck finds this newfound appreciation intoxicating, so she works very hard to stay grounded.
Unintimidating.
A real car’s car.
But this Sunday Chuck had the misfortune to be seated at the party next to this overdressed, blue, Italian bitch.
Gah! Even though they were both combustion engine vehicles, Chuck felt like a blender next to the Bugatti.
Hey! Big deal! You’re a Bugatti. We get it! You’re sexy and shiny and…
Her engine raced. Her oil boiled. Sure, the Bugatti’s paint job was perfect, her design flawless, and her engine purred like a sexy panther, but seriously, under the hood were they really that different?
Yes, Yes they were.
With 1,471 horsepower separating them, the Bugatti could go from 0-250 mph and back to 0 in 42 sec.
Chuck could barely make it to 60 mph (coughing and sweating) in the same time!
Not everybody likes fast! Chuck reasoned. I’m slow and dependable…and with my lawnmower-sized engine, I’m both affordable and low maintenance, something the Bugatti could never claim to be!
Chuck pulled in her fenders and tucked in her tush feeling inadequate and small.
A few minutes later she could feel someone staring at her. That’s impossible, I’m invisible next to this bitch…but Chuck was wrong. She glanced up to find the Bugatti’s Melania Trump sideways stare focused on her like a laser beam.
Doah youeh have a ah cigarette? The Bugatti purred in her syrupy Italian accent.
A cigarette…uh, no. Firehazard? Chuck answered. Gawd. Why did I say that? Fiyarhazrdddd. What a sarcastic, jealous little car I am!
Si, si. Youah rigght. Don’t smokeah. Ew cahn’t geta the smelleh outa youra polstry… I like youra flippy windoz. Thehra molto bello, the Buggati said, finishing with a heavy sigh.
Well, everything about you is fantastic! You’re so lucky to be so beautiful and fast and worth so much money! Chuck gushed to her new best friend.
Occhiata, Youeh areah the fortuna one. Youeh make evreeebody smiiile. Bambini. Nonna. Evreeebody. Me? Solo uomini. Only Men. Men witha airy chests and grande…how you say? Wallets
That must suck, Chuck replied with a minimum of sarcasm. She was under no illusion that the Bugatti was truly sad or lonely—it was more likely she was just bored.
Then it dawned on Chuck that maybe this Bugatti babe was on to something.
Everybody did love her. Babies, Grandmas! And Chuck was never bored. She loved her family, their little brown dog, her googly eyes, and her small little life.
I aim to be more like Chuck.
Carry on,
xox
*Addendum: I was just informed that like all good bitches, Bugattis are French! C’est La Vie!
