When I was in high school, I spent many a math lesson not paying attention to the instructor and instead joking with a friend about such things as "The Big Car," my personal mode of transportation for all needs, public and private.
The Big Car was notable for being wider than any highway and taller than any underpass. It was heavy enough to require a tenth of the world's oil supply just to get the 100 miles to Los Angeles. It used enough steel to build a bridge to the moon. The power of the engine was such that it would deafen pedestrians, bicyclists, and other motorists--assuming they weren't killed first by the totally unfiltered, lethally noxious fumes coming out of the tailpipe. It was so big that the windshield didn't offer a view of the road, and the steering wheel required a crew to operate. There were dozens of gears in the transmission, and millions of cupholders. The Big Car was 100% Made-in-America pride, and was a fixture at fairs and parades. The Big Car had originally been conceived of by the Soviets, contributing to the collapse of their economy, but Americans had stolen the plans, increased the car's dimensions to a large, more American scale, and done away with most of the pesky fuel efficiency that was hampering engine performance. As a result, the Big Car could accelerate from 0 to 12 mph in just under 4.1 hours--a truly dizzying acceleration. The car's top speed was rated at 12.3 mph, which was only sustainable for a few seconds at a time, lest the nuclear power plant go into meltdown.
The main boiler was capable of generating enough torque for the Big Car to tow small towns to new locations, and to relocate disobedient hills in California's seismically unstable bumper car park of topography. The Big Car, in full operation, put out so much heat that it couldn't safely be used in tunnels lest the concrete melt, but on the open road it was a joy to drive. Inside the cabin, there were only three seats (two up front and one in the trunk), but each seat had climate controls, heating elements, microwaves, access keys to the President's White House, and one of those Excalibur garage door openers that can open any gate or door. The radio, utilizing the very latest Foreign Technology (but paid for in American dollars!), could reach a combined six stations on the AM and FM dials--although the only way to switch between them was to access the control board in the main engine room.
Most of the fun about the Big Car was putting it into wacky adventures that would allow me to further describe the car's uniquely American attributes. Usually these exploits would serve to highlight the inadequacies of the American public and the nation's infrastructure when it came to appreciating really big cars. Evil terrorist plots were also routinely foiled, with the villains (and the supporting heroes) usually meeting a gruesome end by attempting to operate the Big Car or by being forced to rely on the integrity of its patented Safety Gizmos. (Yes, this was back before September 11, but thanks to Hollywood action movies such as True Lies I already knew of the threat posed by weirdly dressed Middle Eastern people.)
Ah...good times with the Big Car. I think it got into dozens of wrecks every time it went anywhere, but inside the Big Car you'd never notice.
