#dodge intrepid

[jettacar]

I'M CRAZY AND INSANE!!! ❤️‍🔥

[vinstoncup]

A fun work of concept from a 1997 racing magazine. Man, imagine if all five of these were on the Cup circuit in the '90s?

(Also, can we talk about the way they opened the Toyota section? It's sad how much racist backlash they were getting even from people like Jimmy Spencer when they actually entered Trucks, and I don't doubt there was just as much when people saw this.)

[seat-safety-switch]

What's up, internet? It's your boy, Doctor Killshot, coming at you live from the front seat of my 1996 Dodge Intrepid ES. That's right, it's Tuesday, so it's time for another live-stream of my commute to my day job! Give it up in the chat if you want me to blow this red light.

Wow! That was close. While I'm calming back down, let me give you some news about the stream. Last week, I officially signed up as the newest member of the Canadian Tire CommuteForce™ streaming team. Now, don't worry, you're only gonna see a few more ads, and it means I can keep bringing you all this great content. Check out this bad-ass Tweety Bird steering wheel cover they sent me!

Thanks for subscribing, FiestaFlapjack69! That means I gotta go an extra 15 over the speed limit for this next little bit. Hang on tight, everybody. It's gonna be amazing.

Wanted to give a big shout-out to my fellow commute streamer, HPatternGearshift, who has just awoken from his coma. We all were rooting for you after that big rollover on I-85, buddy! I'll be doing a co-driving stream with him when he's out of the hospital, so watch out for that.

Looks like I'm almost to work. Here's the handbrake turn you asked for, everybody! Thanks for spending the CommuteBits™; it really helps me out. Don't forget to subscribe if you haven't, and check out my new t-shirt store.

[contac]

[ph4z0n]

Pepe Gaka has a new mural in Hot Springs, AR.

Pepe's previous work on display was of and inspired by the Quapaw, a Native American tribe local to the region.

This new work — as obviously shown — is an interpretation inspired by Garvan Woodland Gardens, a local botanical garden administered by University of Arkansas. (I'd guess they're the patrons financing this work.)

Woodland is quite a beautiful place, and all who are passing thru the region (or staying put) should definitely make an attempt to experience the spectacle and wonder.

This mural is significantly more elaborate and colorful than Pepe's prior work in Hot Springs, and brings a nice "pop" to an otherwise ageing and decaying area of this small town deep in the heart of Clinton Country.

Wish that old 98/99 Dodge Intrepid wasn’t in frame… but, what can ya do?

Lat: 34.51536 Lon: -93.05371

[contac]

[seat-safety-switch]

Hinterland Who’s Who: The European Tinworm

Quiet! If we sit here in this parking lot long enough, you can hear it: the telltale rustling of the European Tinworm eating its way through the fenders of this Intrepid.

Once thought only native to Italy, the European Tinworm has migrated to North America, carried there by early Fiats destined for the New World. Its primary habitat is pretty much goddamn everywhere, except for California and Colorado. The European Tinworm primarily consumes steel, especially when paired with road salt and moisture. These worms do not particularly care for soap and water, but let’s be honest with ourselves, you are not washing every nook and cranny of that winter beater every evening.

Its only natural competition is the Asian Tinworm, a species once unique to Japan. In groups, these ferocious eaters can skeletonize a Mazda Protege in five minutes.

There is no known method of mitigating the European Tinworm. In the 1990s, General Motors attempted to make car replicas with plastic bodies. The idea was that these “Saturns” would be able to confuse the Tinworm into not penetrating any further. However, this unnatural selection backfired, and today you can find many Tinworm habitats hidden deep inside the quarter panels of SL1s the world over.

If you see European Tinworm on your family car, do not approach. Take the vehicle to your closest body shop and let their experienced professionals remove it. Under no circumstances should you attempt repair yourself, lest you attract the deadly menace of Driving Around With Unfinished Primer On Your Fenders For Five Years.

[seat-safety-switch]

“Do you swear fealty only to the One True Car, the Chrysler Intrepid, and to no lesser four-door semi-luxury sedans?” asked the cultist at the other end of the snaking obsidian dagger pointed at my heart.

I wanted to ask what happened to the 300M Special, but decided that discretion was the better part of valour in this circumstance. Another better part of valour was my loaded .38 snubnose, from which I discharged hollowpoint justice into the hooded teenager with a quick one-two brap. As he sagged to the ground, the audience went wild, perhaps not yet realizing the gun wasn’t loaded with blanks for their entertainment.

When I was first approached about attending ChryslerCon and taking part in the Early 90s FWD Paradise panel, I figured that they had finally called my number, identified my cries for help as closeted lust for the Dodge Neon. It was not to be, I would soon find - my fellow panelists, like the cultist, were consumed altogether by some kind of strange power that brought their attentions solely on Iacocca’s Revenge, the Cloud Car of lore.

Choosing to seize the moment and build on the momentum that taking a human life had given me, I grabbed my microphone and leaned in conspiratorially. I was going to say something controversial, the crowd realized, and their murmuring about whether or not to call the homicide police fell silent, now hanging on my every word. In my peripheral vision, I could see my fellow panelists, too, were enraptured, drawn from their study of Mopar Action back-issues by the report of the handgun.

“How can you make a good front-wheel-drive car if the engine is installed longitudinally?” I spat into the mic, before hooking my belt loop to the dangling tow rope and letting the helicopter pull me from the hall before the crowd could rush me in delusional anger.

It was only as I ascended through the opened skylight of the Cobo Centre, giving the assembled crowd a furious double-bird that I began to feel regret. I had neglected to pick up an ACR radio delete panel from the swap meet, and now it would just be awkward to go back.