Adieu The Pimpmobile

With Tina just about ready to pop, we'd had to give serious thought to getting a more sensible automobile - which meant that one of the two red Rolymobiles had to go.

Hearing this, the Lincoln decided to do what every single Roly car does upon hearing the news that it might be sold... [In a couple of week's time, after still being an invaluable transportation unit until that time - Editorial Bear]

It died.

There'd been an intermittent problem with the starter for a while now. Occasionally, if the car wasn't firmly in Park or Neutral, the starter would whizz, but refuse to start the car.

Occasional became permanent. This morning, the Lincoln refused to start and no amount of coaxing, jiggling or swearing would get it to work.

So while I was at the office, oblivious to the whole thing (my parents did the same thing when they got the cat neutered) Tina called the tow company and the Lincoln went away to wherever old livery cars go when they die. [The scrap heap - Editorial Bear.]

I am actually very sad about this. I loved that stupid old car.

For such an astonishing ridiculous beast, it was comfortable, reliable (until this morning) and drove like a dream. It was like cruising in a recliner, sitting behind that big, wooden dashboard, staring out across six feet of gleaming red bonnet.

The Pimpin' Lincoln had style. It cruised on a cushion of air. It could do 85 for hours on end, absolutely silently and without breaking a sweat. The metallic red paint and heavy-duty sound system were worthy of any ghetto-fabulous Pimpmobile and - according to popular legend - former New York Governor Jim McGreevey had done the deed (with all sorts of people, in a variety of combinations) in the back seat.

It had even been discussed on Playboy Radio. My car. Mentioned on their breakfast show.

Goodbye, Pimpmobile. You will be missed.