By on July 20, 2014

Photo courtesy of Nick Salvatore

The word “bad,” in and of itself, is so subjective, isn’t it? Certainly one could make the case that there’s “bad” and “good” in all of us, but I think that the modern world chooses to look at it this way: to be “bad” is really just to be selfish. Even though the media would have you believe that the whole world is comprised of childless atheists who live in three-story walk ups in northeastern metropolises, in reality, most of America is filled with deity-believing, family-supporting, hard working men and women. These are “good” people. They take care of each other. They act in the interest of the common welfare. I’m glad they exist.

I’m just not one of them.

You see, I have a passion for life. THIS life. I recently saw a whole group of Amish people at the airport. Okay, I guess they couldn’t have been Amish if they were at the airport, right? So they were Mennonite or something. Anyway, the point is, I saw the women walking by in their denim dresses and their white little caps on their heads and the men with their beards and their suspenders and I thought, Christ, I hope they’re right for their sakes. If there is nothing but eternal darkness at the end of this life, then, I mean, what a waste of consciousness!

A friend of mine once told me that where he grew up in Indiana, the Amish girls would take their buggies into town and park them behind the gas station. Then, they would change into regular clothes, put on makeup, and go look for boys to cruise with. I hope that these women did the same thing at some point. I hope that some teenaged Indiana boys bent them over the hood of a Monte Carlo behind a barn and had their way with them. THAT’S life. Or at least it counts as living, you know?

There I go again. All over the place. My doctor prescribed some meds to help me with that. He says that it was probably missed by the doctors when I was a kid because I was so smart and always did well in school, but that I’m classic ADD. Honestly, it makes sense. It might even explain why I am the way I am. The meds worked for a while, but eventually I found that the sexual side effects, which I’m not even gonna go into here, were too much. So I quit using them, which means that you have to deal with my stream of consciousness.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, my undeniable selfishness. Another friend of mine said to me just yesterday that “there’s no point in NOT being selfish. You only get one shot at life, so take care of yourself. Who else is gonna do it?” He said this while we were lounging at the pool in our apartment complex here in Charlotte. Christ, you should see this complex and this pool. Every little former sorority girl who moved here after college to make it big in the banking industry lives here, and most of them treated themselves to an automatic BMW 320i sedan (complete with Sensatec interiors and $385 a month lease payments) and a set of implants as graduation presents. They view weekend pool time much like they do the bars—it’s a mating ritual where only the strong survive. The little hardbodies dip their toes precariously into the water, but they would never actually swim. Who swims at a pool?

Most of them think I’m about 29. Little do they know…I’m 38. If I have any religion, it’s the Church of Tony Horton, and I attend my church even more regularly than my little old grandparents in Miami do theirs. I’m at about six percent body fat, and I’d be even lower if it weren’t for the wine habit I seem to have acquired over the years.

The young women love that shit—they swoon over the fact that I don’t drink PBR like the wannabe hipsters at the NoDa bars. Of course, they don’t know the difference between an ’07 Insignia and Yellow Tail Merlot, but they sure as hell know the price difference on the wine list. They think I’m a gentleman because I pick up the tab and I open doors. They talk about how nice it is to be with a man who isn’t so selfish in bed. Of course, the last little nosy twenty-three year old bitch I took home had the nerve to actually sneak a look at my driver’s license in my wallet when I was pissing out the remnants of the Heitz Cellars Cab we drank that night. She must have literally taken two steps backwards when she saw my birthdate.

“Um, I think we might be looking for different things here,” she stuttered. “I’m just looking to be casual and have some fun.”

So am I, baby. So am I.

So what does a discerning gentleman like myself drive, you might ask? It’s a good question, and one without an easy answer. This generation of younger women can be tough for a lot of guys to figure out. They want to feel like their purchases validate their socially-approved list of careabouts, and, of course, that means that yours has to, as well. So you can’t go all out for some badass 600 horsepower muscle car—no, that wouldn’t be environmentally conscious. Plus, too many of them moved here for some backwards little town in Appalachia, and the sight of a Vette or a Challenger is uncomfortably close to home for them.

BMW has totally become a bitch brand. These girls don’t know the difference between their little F30 shitboxes and an M5, and I’m not inclined to spend the time educating them. Their dads drive Benzes, and while many of them are happy to call me Daddy around 12:30 at night, they don’t really want to be reminded of those expectations and pressures. Can’t be Japanese, either—they drove Civics all throughout high school and college, and they know those cars are code for “poor.”

The answer? For me, it was easy. Audi RS7. Somehow, despite their annoying desire to keep going downmarket, Audi has become a very potent brand with young women. As at least a few have said, it looks “sexy as fuck.” The shape of it helps them realize it’s not an A3 or A4, too. It has four doors, so it’s suitably grown-up—they know I’m not a kid. I could have gotten any color I wanted, but I chose white, because girls hate ostentatiously colored cars. Even though it’s got about 560 HP, they don’t seem to think of it as being a big fuel burner. And somehow, they all know it’s a hundred grand, which lets them know that a set of Christian Louboutins isn’t out of the question, should they decide to spend a weekend in my company, of course.

I realize what some of you are probably thinking at this point. You’re thinking, “I fucking hate this guy.” Right? All my brand name-dropping and posturing makes you feel a little yucky inside. You immediately start rationalizing inside your mind, telling yourself that you’re so glad that your wife isn’t so shallow, and that she loves you for your mind and that you love her for her kind and generous heart. You’re telling yourself that she’s so much more beautiful with her stretch marks, oops, I mean,”tiger stripes,” than any of these Maxim model dimes that are littered about my life. You laugh at my financial decisions, saying how you bought your 2009 mid-sized sedan after somebody else took the hit for you, and how it’s “just a depreciating appliance.” You’ve got your money in smart investments like a three bedroom home in a subdivision with really good schools nearby.

Pardon me while I laugh at you and your bullshit suburban life with your Altima and your picket fence and your Labrador retriever. You wish you could be me, but you can’t. You’re not smart enough. You’re not handsome enough. And, most importantly, you’re not wealthy enough. I drive fast cars. I have sex with gorgeous twentysomethings. I live in a building where they clean my carpets for me monthly after they move my Niccoletti furniture carefully out of the way. I went to Prague with a former SEC cheerleader last weekend. You went to a youth soccer game. Guess which one was more exciting?

In fact, at this very moment, I’m about to pull out onto South street so I can drive Uptown to have dinner at Chima with a stunning little brunette I met at the pool just the other night. I’m 38 years old, I’m ripped, I’m stacking dollars, and oh fuck that bus just ran the red light—

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70 Comments on “Sunday Story: “The Cost of Eternal Youth” by Bark M....”


  • avatar

    Nuances within nuances. Nice.

  • avatar
    CrapBox

    Poseur. It’s Nicoletti, not Niccoletti.

  • avatar
    Toad

    Glad you’re having fun. It’s a great way to live when you are in your 20’s. At 38…

    There is a happy medium somewhere between suburban kid schlepping drudgery and being the 40ish guy cruising the apartment complex pools. But to each their own.

    • 0 avatar
      racer-esq.

      From what I know hanging out at this site sometimes at a maximum the age is true to life.

    • 0 avatar
      WheelMcCoy

      Bark M. *is* having fun… writing fiction for the Sunday Story column and not really living like the lead character in “Wolf Of Wall Street.”

      I liked the story, and how it ends. Answering the question “The Cost Of Eternal Youth,” it evoke’s in me Deborah Harry’s song, “Die Young, Stay Pretty.”

  • avatar
    Jeff Waingrow

    This is tongue-in-cheek, right? Right? Frankly, everything you describe here strikes me as profoundly pathetic. Perhaps that’s what you intended. That’s my hope anyway.

  • avatar
    mccall52

    I’m going with tongue-in-cheek. A hallmark of good writing is eliciting responses such as these.

  • avatar
    Pan

    Funny. Definite writing talent. The Bus provides the perfect conclusion.

  • avatar

    I don’t like Audi.
    I love Mercedes.

    However, the A7 is the one Audi that would make me buy an Audi.

    The RS7 is the only Audi (right now) I’d ever spend big money on.

    Not because of how it looks – but because of what it can do.

    I was on West side Highway at the Mercedes Benz dealer and saw a guy driving one. Incredible car. Very few cars get you Italian-Exotic V12 performance for so little money.

  • avatar
    racer-esq.

    If I was going to make up a fake life it would not be in Charlotte. No offense to Charlotte.

    Also, I would not be a whine snob, that’s some insecure A3 level sh_t.

    An Audi 7 as a daily driver is defensible. Best looking 4/5 door luxury car out right now.

  • avatar

    As it seems I have to remind people every time…this is fiction, guys.

    • 0 avatar
      racer-esq.

      Phew, I thought you were dead and the sentient TTAC post bot compiled this as some kind of eulogy.

    • 0 avatar
      Jeff Waingrow

      A great relief. Every writer of fiction seems to have to explain that these are works of imagination. They’re not about the author. Leastwise, that’s the claim.

    • 0 avatar
      VolandoBajo

      Fiction TO YOU, @Bark but you must remember your fiction is borderline great, at worst, because it is so highly congruent with the reality of some others.

      And for them, if their reality occurred prior to their reading your fiction, their immediate interpretation is that this, too, must be a true adventure, a “Dear Penthouse, I know you are not…” kind of a more or less humble brag.

      But perhaps you should attach a warning label at the time of publication.

      Unless, as I suspect, you get a bit of schadenfreude from seeing people taken in by such fiction that rings so true to them, based on their lives and acquaintances.

      Great writing.

      If you’re not already a fan, check out Bruce Jay Friedman. And especially a short story he did for Esquire literally decades ago, about a man who realizes he has passed his shelf date by the fact that the last company that still manufactured his lifelong collar stays, is discontinuing them, and when the ones he has are gone, in the laundry or wherever, he will no longer be able to present the appearance he has come to identify with, in multiple senses of the word “identify”.

      But many otherstories by BJF, as well. Like you, much of his fiction was based more on his, and other peoples’, realities than on his pure imagination.

      Again, a great read. Thanks.

      And the bus was a nice touch, as a simplifying device to bring the storyline to a quick bend in the road, and then a sudden realization of the sands of time that are inexorably slipping out of his grasp, even as the protagonist is still grabbing the gusto.

      As, of course, the party will not last forever, for any of us.

      But still that is not an excuse not to enjoy the party, even as we come to recognize, with Eliot:

      “I grow old, I grow old.
      Shall I wear my trousers rolled?
      I shall wear grey flannel trousers,
      and walk upon the beach…
      I hear the mermaids singing,
      each to each…
      I do not think they will sing for me.”

      I hope my twenty one year old son will gain the knowledge and some of the success the protagonist has had, while avoiding the treadmill sameness lasting for a couple of decades, and wherein all he has accomplished in his personal life after twenty some years of “adulthood” is a lot of “game”.

      For it is both an enjoyable, and a cautionary, tale. And a very artfully crafted one at that.

  • avatar
    sportyaccordy

    Story is BS. I’m from NYC and I live in Charlotte now. People here are more likely to stop at a green light than run a red one.

    • 0 avatar
      racer-esq.

      This is the kind of attention to detail we need. Also, women that went to good colleges getting implants? Maybe their less intelligent sisters, but not them.

      • 0 avatar
        VolandoBajo

        Ah, racer, you are only somewhat correct. And I don’t think you can use the absence of post-graduation chest enhancement as a reliable guide to which colleges are “good”.

        The intelligent sisters you reference, because of their intelligence, do not go from an A cup, or perhaps a B minus cup, to a double D cup, as they realize it would re-direct their careers down a path that would render their degree superfluous.

        But if they are under-endowed and want to be on a bit more equal footing, I suspect that there are many intelligent sisters, even from schools such as Harvard, Yale, (and certainly Brown!), Stanford, etc., who sprung, or had Daddy or a first trophy BF spring for a nice pair of chubby puppies.

        Or if anything isn’t pitch perfect about Bark’s tale, it might be that some of them got their enhancements while still in college, perhaps by playing off their parents’ fears of an eating disorder, against a chance to do the personal equivalent of an engine swap.

        In my younger day, I saw (and knew, think about that for a minute) more than one young woman who was board-like in her photos from high school, but who was a well-rounded student as she approached the end of her college career at a good school. And for the most part, the subtle surgical indicators confirmed the initial comparisons.

        Think about it…if penile enlargement actually worked, do you think intelligent brothers who attended good colleges would decline to stoop so low? Sorry, not buying it. If it could be proven to work, and was medically safe, every college town in the country would have at least one doctor specializing in it. And the situation for breast augmentation is probably similar, only in that case, it can be shown to be relatively safe, and effective as well, at least for their intended purposes.

        We are in the age of DIY body image enhancement, and not all of it takes place in a gym or health club. Though with the improvements in the management of post-surg scar management, I doubt the telltale though subtle signs still exist.

        I seriously doubt “intelligent sisters from good colleges” with decently paying jobs feel that it would be morally repugnant to help nature in that department.

    • 0 avatar

      As a native Charlottean I know we have our own version of traffic rules. Polite ones. Also there might be two apartment complexes with a pool I’d want to cruise for girls at.

    • 0 avatar
      VolandoBajo

      Literature is not one of your languages, I suspect, sporty.

      The story was not intended to be a six o’clock weather report, followed by a weekend update, and then closing with a “this just in…” traffic accident report.

      I’m fairly certain Bark was driving while holding a valid literary license. As such, he is licensed to drive off the beaten path.

      The story is very true, but not necessarily as a depiction of native life in Charlotte as brought to you by Frommers.

      If you want that, buy Frommers Guide to Charlotte NC instead. They’ll name more restaurants for you, too.

      Tangential reference: that sort of hole in the wall restaurant downtown near the stadium that has been a college staple for decades was a nice surprise on a day business trip to Charlotte years ago.

  • avatar
    pragmatist

    That’s a hoot.

    But in amongst the inane behavior described are very real bits of truth. Describing the mutual manipulation that has been part of our evolution for a long time, only the artifacts are different.

    Extreme selfishness may be destructive, but so is extreme altruism. If you don’t take care of yourself, no one else will.

    And yes, NO ONE has come up with a convincing logical reason to believe in an afterlife or supreme busybody in the sky. All you can do is live life, doing as little harm as practical…

  • avatar
    Fred

    People were impressed when I told them I drove an Audi, even when I said it was a A3. Then they would see the little hatchback and would no longer be impressed. Some even questioned why I spent so much money on a small car. At 60 years with a ponch from craft beers I’m no longer trying to impress little girls. I miss that little Audi.

    • 0 avatar
      racer-esq.

      Don’t take offense to what I wrote above, AI was referring to the sedan version.

    • 0 avatar
      pragmatist

      Back in the 70s I had an Audi Super 90

      http://sunautoworld.com/images1/audi-super-90-4.jpg

      I don’t think any still exist. They were built to self rust, the brake pads were lucky to go 10K, overheating, bad synchros, and grenading engines were the order of the day. People complain about American 70s car reliability, but my father’s Ford was always avaialable to rescue me.

    • 0 avatar
      TMA1

      Pursuing that “I drive an ____” piece of the luxury pie helped sink Acura.

  • avatar
    Mandalorian

    Welcome to TTAC Charlie Sheen!

  • avatar
    kvndoom

    I’ve settled down from my Cyba Playa days (meet ’em on dating sites, bag ’em, keep bagging them if I like ’em, eventually let ’em go).

    My best friend, at 42, is still living the life though. His lifetime body count is upwards of 50. Even at his age he still occasionally gets some mid-20’s ass. These aren’t fatties with low self esteem either. I’ve met many of them. I’ve seen the nude pics he’s taken of many of them (of COURSE I’ll never show anybody, baby…)

    It ain’t the car. He drives a 2011 or 2012 Fusion Hybrid (silver!), which he bought after wearing out his 2002 Mazda Protege hatchback (also silver!). He makes damn good money, but doesn’t flaunt it. He isn’t the best looking thing in the world. He knows how to talk to females, and knows (most importantly) when NOT to talk to them. Somehow, ignoring them for days once they’ve gotten used to telling you their first-world problems is the fast track to the panties.

    See, women really want what they can’t have, because they have no idea what they really want. If you give them everything they want, they will cheat or leave you. He knows that (thanks to a bad marriage back in his mid 20’s) and uses it to maximum advantage. Guy I worked with long ago was the same way. He was in his 40’s, fat, balding, but he was a photographer. He would tell us all the time how EASY it was to get chicks to undress in front of a camera. And once the clothes are off, the rest is elementary, no?

    I’m not jealous,; I don’t miss that life anymore. I don’t hate, because everyone should live life as they see fit. Not as anyone else sees fit. Like Bark said, fiction or not, you only get one shot. Is he wrong? Only the dead know that. And they ain’t talking.

    Today’s religion is tomorrow’s mythology. Just ask the Egyptians, Romans and Greeks. Until I see winged people blowing trumpets telling me to repent, Christianity is the same BS as the rest of it.

    I’m engaged, live in my little 4-bedroom house, but I don’t miss the shallow life. I have enough stories and memories. What’s cool is I can tell my fiancee the stuff I’ve done in the past and we get a laugh out of it(she ain’t no saint either). She’s wonderful.

    TL;DR- life is short. Tap that ass.

    • 0 avatar
      28-Cars-Later

      Indeed, life is short, tap that ass. Also for those who were unaware car != game.

    • 0 avatar
      PandaBear

      “See, women really want what they can’t have, because they have no idea what they really want.”

      QFT. Like one of my female friend who has divorced because she was cheating said, “you have to smack them bitches once in a while instead of treating them like a princess if you want to keep them.”

  • avatar
    mikey

    Excellent read, and I know its fiction. But I think all of us, regardless of our socio economic status, know guys that tried to live that life.

    One day they wake up, and thier looking at 50 something guy in the mirror. The young girls are all laughing ay them. The nice 50 something ladies are all spoken for.

    Time waits for no one.

    • 0 avatar
      racer-esq.

      Socio economic status matters:

      http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Clooney

      • 0 avatar
        el scotto

        Movie/TV stars and pro athletes cause wrinkles in the panty-dropping-incident space time continuum. Sir Sean Connery being a prime example. We also get actors who happen to be racers, Steve McQueen, Paul Newman, and Patrick Dempsey. Respects to James Garner on his passing.
        The hero? of this story (thankfully) doesn’t understand something very basic: leaders surround themselves with other leaders. Douche-bags like the hero? of this story seek approval and acceptance which few will give to such a self-evident, self-centered, shallow person. Maybe he likes having his picture taken while he’s playing guitar to prove his self-worth? In the end, a fool like this one never gets the difference between someone who is drinking at 2 in the afternoon and some who can drink at 2 in the afternoon or will never understand that you can brag about what you parked at the hangar but being driven at the other end is what counts.

  • avatar
    sofast1

    So you wrote a story about an asshole…….. Turn on your TV,it’s full of them.

  • avatar
    ajla

    “It was on Duke where Phil Collins’ presence became more apparent. I think Invisible Touch was the group’s undisputed masterpiece. It’s an epic meditation on intangibility. At the same time, it deepens and enriches the meaning of the preceding three albums.”

    What color and font did this guy have for his business cards?

  • avatar
    Joss

    Thanks for not being another proud, upright god-fearing-American. Like Audi & BMW its the ubiqtious path.

  • avatar
    dougjp

    An interesting read, and then a huge mistake (“I’m about to pull out”, which can only mean he hasn’t yet pulled out) in the last paragraph ruins it.

    No accident, at least involving him, therefore no ending happened or is implied.

    However some people here didn’t notice that and thought the guy got killed. So it sort of worked regardless on some people.

  • avatar
    3Deuce27

    Thank God!

    I thought I had fell into a TTAC Sunday sermon.

    We’re all selfish to some degree, I can be really selfish with my time, but I have my good moments when I work 18 hours a week supervising the construction of Habitat homes or doing repairs, or my few hours a week at the food bank. Or, just this past eleven days spent with my granddaughter giving her the time of her life. But, she just left and I’m glad to get back to a life all about Me.

    Soon, I leave all responsibility for guy time on an ocean sail from Seattle to SF, relieved of my commitments to society too which I owe an enormous debt for allowing me to have such a blessed life.

    I know you Bark M, I was that guy, for too long a time, and yes I did miss it when I ‘settled down’ but none of that time with pretty gals had any value compared to rafting the Rogue, with my granddaughter yesterday, and all the excitement, terror, and laughs we shared under perfect skies on a perfect day. Or all the other fun we have had the past 11 days, horseback riding in the dunes and on the ocean beach, daily snorkeling the Smith, Rogue, and Illinois rivers looking for pretty rocks. Hiking the local trails and shopping the boutiques on ‘G’ St. That time was precious, which when you look back someday when your not the guy you are now(hopefully), you will understand.

    I miss her, but part of me is glad she is gone, so I can just do what I want to do without consideration of another person(s). My selfishness is probably why I’m single again, I took my wonderful wife for granted, and we moved apart over the years.

    Despite some hard lessons, I’m still who I am, pretty damn selfish….and so it goes.

    Thanks for the laugh at the end Bark, nice self-effacing finish to a well written article on personal selfishness. That bus will get you, maybe not today, but some day, if your blind to your selfishness

    That A7 is one beautiful car and the Audi Avants are right behind it in aesthetic detail. To bad they are FWD/AWD or I would have one in my garage.

  • avatar
    Zykotec

    Apart from the A7 looking a bit like a dog taking a dump (just like the Chrysler Crossfires, seriously, they managed to make the A5 liftback really beatiful, so what were they thinking with that low rear?) , it’s a good story as usual. And not very unrealistic at all, I know plenty of people who feel this way about life (but don’t live at such a location, or has that kind of money)

  • avatar
    05lgt

    Enjoyable Sunday Story, thanks “B”ark. I thought the bus was heavy handed and unnecessary, seriously “sharing Prague” with someone you’ll never know more exciting than youth soccer when *your* kids on the field? Then I read the comments… OK, you know your audience.

  • avatar
    Ryoku75

    Fine story, just a bit hazy with the Amish stuff at the start, I don’t expect OCD-levels of attention to detail with simple fun stories like this.

  • avatar
    krhodes1

    A great read!

    I live a sort of halfway in-between life. I have not time or inclination to chase tail. But I am single, make enough money to do pretty much whatever I want, and drive whatever I want. Tempered by my having pretty practical tastes in cars, being a bit of a cheapskate, and a fairly consuming professional life that doesn’t leave a lot of time for play. But I love what I do so that is OK!

    No kids for me, the genetic buck stops here.

    I like the A7, but it is too expensive for my liking for what it is, and I have no use for AWD.

  • avatar
    Instant_Karma

    Love this piece. It’s kind of like The Wolf of Wall Street, decry the wanton excess and vanity of it all you want, but you’d do the same thing in a heartbeat if you could.

  • avatar
    thelaine

    Libertine-ism

  • avatar
    -Nate

    .
    A well written fun read that *could* have been the truth .

    Keep ’em coming .

    -Nate

  • avatar
    bill h.

    When I look back at my 40+ years as a licensed driver, and the life I’ve built in that time, I certainly never got anywhere with the ladies as described in this tale–no way, being an Asian American male in the 1970s midwest and focused more on music, studying and getting my engineering degrees. I made do with the modestly fun cars I drove, enjoyed time with some great ladies who were friends then (and still are today), and eventually got hitched and a family with the proverbial bullshit suburban life. But I’m still getting to drive some fun cars, and of my two kids, one of them grew up to be an engineer at Chrysler and is having fun making cars they write about on TTAC and driving stuff like a 2015 Challenger as his company car. The other kid is studying to be a musician, learning to perform some of the greatest artistic works created in western civilization, so the money that would have gone into my proverbial Red Porsche is tied up with his violin instead. Compared to a mere car, it’s the best investment I’ve ever made.

    But I enjoyed the piece, and the “what ifs” that come with reflection over one’s life. Because no matter what we choose or how well it turns out, we’ll always think about the what ifs.

  • avatar
    Maymar

    I like the RS7 for what it is, but like froyo, Audis lack much of any impression unless you start piling on the interesting options (well, like spec’ing a 560hp hatchback).

    Also, been to Prague. Didn’t care for Prague.

    I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t like more money, but trying to impress people I don’t like seems exhausting.

  • avatar
    cartoon

    Dear Bark:
    This article, on whatever level it is written, is amateurish, condescending, insulting and borish. It will ensure I never return to TTAC.
    Dear TTAC:
    Keep to the mission. Facts.

    • 0 avatar
      28-Cars-Later

      Fiction is also acceptable, just because you didn’t like the piece does not mean it is not relevant.

      • 0 avatar
        PrincipalDan

        I guess somebody missed the “Sunday Fiction” memo. Personally I don’t care for most of the fiction pieces so I don’t read them, but it doesn’t mean I’m opposed to them being here.

        Also, if I read it and don’t like it, I just don’t say anything.

        It is a once a week fling allowed writers who crank out more work-a-day pieces every other day of the week.

    • 0 avatar

      It’s like a special combination of “boring” and “boorish.” See you tomorrow!

    • 0 avatar
      Jack Baruth

      Good news, cartoon!

      I’m helping you never return to TTAC by deleting your account.

      Buh-bye.

  • avatar
    thelaine

    Dear Bark:
    This article, on whatever level it is written, is amateurish, condescending, insulting and boorish.

    Well done.

    Dear TTAC:
    Facts are boring.

  • avatar
    RangerM

    When you value nothing, that’s usually what you end up with.

  • avatar
    PunksloveTrumpys

    “And I hope I d-d-die before I get old…”

    • 0 avatar
      3Deuce27

      “And I hope I d-d-die before I get old…” My Dad always said that… He got his wish. Dead at 33, but he died in a car having fun. Not sure if I buy the sentiment ‘That he died doing what he wanted to do’. I think, given the choice, he would have picked life.

  • avatar
    sofast1

    What is this story doing here anyhow? I thought this site was about cars.

  • avatar
    tekdemon

    Heh, where I live (gold coast of long island) it’s always some bald 70 year old guy driving these and I kid you not that the last time I saw a Panamera Turbo it was being driven by an 80-something year old lady who was dropping her friend off at the physical therapist. I see a lot of these cars around too since half the neighborhood is made up of wall street folks. Went to get sushi today and saw a 911 Carrera S…replete with another 65 year old balding driver.

    Seriously, I have yet to see a high performance car in my neighborhood not being driven by a middle aged or even older individual. And for that matter I have no idea why an 80 year old lady would feel that the Panamera Turbo is the best car to buy other than that I suspect they bought it because it was a lot of money and everyone here likes to show off just a little bit. She was definitely not driving it in any manner that would be considered even vaguely sporty, but there it was.

    Anyhow, since I’ve just moved into this area I will have to work on bringing down the average age of a performance car driver here, it shouldn’t be too hard since everyone else is well over 60. All the younger folks just drive luxury CUVs, I’m seeing a lot of Audi Q’s these days.

    Err, back on topic, the fiction is cool but I honestly haven’t seen any 38 year olds driving anything like this in pretty much ever. Not even the rich ones. When the younger rich folks go for flashy they seem to go all the way and buy Ferraris and despite how much I actually like the 458 I still automatically think they’re a douchebag when they drive by. Cant help it.

  • avatar
    MrGrieves

    “Hardbodies” –> Nice American Psycho reference!

  • avatar
    njmx

    Great story. It hits pretty close to home for me, since much of this sounds exactly like my life. Except for all the judgement, pretense, and assholery.

    Not sure anyone in my circle would choose an RS7. Personally I’d rather the R8 if I wanted a six digit Audi. Also not sure that anyone in my circle gives so much weight to the opinions of potential conquests when deciding what to drive. If it matters that much, you’re doing it wrong. Most recent lady friend was a lingerie model and I could have taken her out in a riced-out civic and she would have found it hilarious. I believe snobbery about BMW vs Merc vs Audi is almost exclusive to men – there are approximately zero young women that give a shit, and those that actually care about what you drive simply prefer something that looks expensive and makes their girlfriends jealous.

  • avatar
    Arthur Dailey

    In order to be funny it needs to have some truth to it. And Bark hits the spot.

    Modern media extols this type of life. It promotes consumerism. Living life for now. Celebrity for celebrities sake. And basically a selfish attitude.

    We can trace this in consumer products. Who repairs appliances or electronic equipment today. Everything including relationships is disposable.

    More importantly how is the family and in particular fathers portrayed in the media. The father who was faithful, worked hard and supported his family was considered a hero. Things changed and Al Bundy who exemplified those traits became viewed as some kind of loser. Laugh at the man who stayed faithful to his wife, gave up his dreams so that he could support his family and who drove a Dodge.

  • avatar
    05lgt

    You ought to listen to the lyrics at the beginning of “Ill Mind of Hopsin 5”.

  • avatar
    CoffeeLover

    I always (eventually) come by for the Sunday fiction; this one was a little too heavy on the car preferences.

    I have known and dated and even loved a few guys who were approaching this type. Some aged out of it. One made a big time ethical (not sexual! or embezzlement) at work and was out on his ass. Saw him three or four years later and he was pathetic: needed a haircut, clothes out of style, almost begging me to “invest” in his new venture. The whole key to this “lifestyle” is money.

    If there are any single women reading this, check out the guy’s father. He often is a good predictor of what you will get. If Dad is out of the picture (not dead, that’s different) you better really watch out.

  • avatar
    danio3834

    Sh1t was so cash. TTAC’s version of, “My name is John, and I hate every single one of you.”

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