Electric Cars and Me – Part 1

TL;DR I do not like Electric Cars. Cool. Because this post was originally quite long, and after some editing and slicing and dicing, it’s been trimmed of excess fat quite excessively.

Here’s where I want to start. Electric Cars are not ostentatious. Here I’ve provided you with a dictionary definition of what I mean:

Ostentatious, adjective:

1) intended to attract notice

2) characterized by or given to pretentious or

 conspicuous show in an attempt to impress others

Stellar. Now, I personally, I define ostenatiousness(it’s not a word unless you’re me – deal with it) by the sound. Herein lies the key issues. Electric cars are silent. Sure, you can throw some speakers on them and make them seem more exciting than they really are, but by definition electric motors are silent and hence electric cars are silent.

Some may call Silence a good thing. I do not. I like attracting attention. No matter how pretty an electric car is – if it’s bright orange and has twenty-four inch wheels – if I’m not looking out the window while eating dinner and it drives by, I’m not going to notice it. Plain and simple. Replace that blasted electric piece of worthless garbage though with a bright orange Lamborghini that is shooting fire out it’s exhaust pipe (and for once, not because it’s on fire, but because it’s burning gasoline in it’s engine like it’s supposed to), then you can bet I’ll turn my head right around and try to catch a glimpse of the beast.

Here’s an analogy that I sort of like. My friend Rob (who hopefully someday will join the ranks of writers here at PRNDLoser) and I came up with it the other day.

Imagine you’re out to dinner with a lovely woman(or man, if you prefer). They’re great. They’re attractive. They’re wearing a great outfit. Hell. They’re the single most physically attractive specimen of the human race that you have ever seen. There’s just one issue. They’re mute. They can’t talk(just roll with some ‘magical realism’ of mine here, please). No matter how much you want them to be able to, they’ll never look at you with their great set of eyes and say something like “Lets go steal some street signs, tear up the town and wreck havoc”. They don’t ooze danger or excitement because, well, they simply can’t be exciting. They can’t even say “Lets get out of here. Your place or mine?”. They Can’t. Talk. At. All.

I think that the Internal Combustion Engine is that equally attractive person who will ask for the bill when the two of you have better things to do. It will be your partner in crime. The two of you will get thrown in jail for causing a public disturbance(like squealing tires or doing endless burnouts) – and I think that is a good thing.

If you’re lucky though, you might get to meet the attractive mute’s parents though. I’m sure they’re lovely people.


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