A confluence of events propels me to launch a new potentially-not-recurring series of posts with the theme "What Has zman Driven?". First, Squeaky, a sneaky carguy/baller (sneaky Squeaky) suggested the them during an automotive text exchange this weekend. Second, Marls, a not-so-sneaky baller/fan of strange cars sent me this BaT link this morning. Twas kismet, I have to post about this.
If you're too lazy to click on Marls's link, I'll tell you that it takes you to a 1973 AMC Hornet X Gucci Sportabout. It's glorious and preposterous, so much so that it should be Teedge's WCSAGD.
You're probably saying "So what, it's a green wagon. What's the big deal?" Clock the seats and headliner.
That's real authorized Gucci-branded stuff. According to the listing, "This 1973 AMC Hornet X is one of approximately 4,800 Sportabout wagons equipped with the Gucci interior package featuring beige, green, and red vinyl upholstery along with a Gucci-logo headliner and special exterior badging." It also has a little foot-shaped footrest for your left foot. Here's a clearer photo of it.
This is when you likely call bullschtein on the What Has zMan Driven? aspect of the post and that's partially correct. I have never driven a 1973 AMC Hornet X Gucci Sportabout, but I've spent many miles riding in a yellow (yellow!) 1976 AMC Hornet Sportabout which looked something like this, absent the wood paneling decal and the happy family.
This was the car my stepfather drove when he married my mother and it's probably at least one reason why I prefer wagons over SUVs. Our family of five could pile into this shitbox with a week worth's of clothes and sorted sundries to keep us from killing each other between Teaneck and Rochester. I have no idea why families of four need a Suburban for a weekend at the beach.
Anyway, at least 15% of our Hornet's mass was rust. It had an unmatched capacity to oxidize and my stepfather would always admonish us not to pick at the rust because he sincerely feared the whole thing might fall apart if you flaked off some schmutz from the wrong part of the car. Despite spending its life in Arizona, Florida, and California, this Gucci version has some rust on it too, so it's an honest authentic example of the breed.
Unlike this Gucci, our Hornet had a manual transmission, three-on-the-tree-with-overdrive (my stepfather was very proud of the overdrive and would always say "it's a three-speed with overdrive" instead of "it's a four-speed."). Another point of differentiation is that ours had a single bench seat in front, unlike the Gucci's fancy split bench, which meant that the three of us in the back greatly enjoyed when my mother would take a leg of our roadtrips because she had to slide the whole thing forward to reach the pedals. The big driveshaft tunnel down the middle of the car would get really hot so out of fairness we rotated who had the middle seat straddling it.
The "Weather Eye" HVAC system brings back memories of riding in the middle of the front seat between my stepfather and my mother.
Lots of good times in the Hornet and with my stepfather, who was also my brother (he was a Pi Lam at Ohio Wesleyan). He died this summer after complications from a fall so he never got to drive a Gucci Hornet Sportabout, but I don't think he minded too much. We were all happy to part ways with the rusty yellow Hornet in 1985, but not at all happy to part ways with him this summer.
Now back to our regularly scheduled dipshittery...
It appears we failed to celebrate the birthday of my (faux) radio partner in crime. Luckily, even off the air, the zman and his crazy zantics never end, so we have this celebration footage to share with you, our loyal readers:
TJ has lots of nicknames. Doofus Overlord. TeeJay. The Teej. DJ Toil. Big Pasty. Greazy Bacon. Baby Peanitz. I like to call him Teedge. I don't think Teedge has ever done H, but if you put H in Teedge you get The Edge. Or a pale tweeked-out doofus with needle tracks and an empty bank account.
Maybe it would be better to say that if you take the H out of The Edge you get Teedge. Which is not to say that H is altogether bad -- it gave us "White Light White Heat" and "Waiting for the Man."
I don't know why I spend so much time thinking about Teedge, but I guess he's my muse as he inspired the 11th Day of Gheorghemas 2010. On Day 11, Big Gheorghe gave to me an 11 point comparison of U2's guitarist vs. G:TB's Doofus Overlord.
Musical talent
We have to get this out of the way. I'm not much of a U2 fan, but The Edge manages to make hundreds of millions of dollars selling his music. Rolling Stone put him at #24 on their list of the top 100 guitarists of all time. Hardcore G:TB readers know how I feel about RS and their ranking systems, but this accolade has to count for something.
Teedge makes tens of guys groan in disapproval with his musical stylings at OBFT. Even when Teedge limits himself to playing the radio his performance is subpar.
Advantage: The Edge
Coolness
The Edge is a goddamn rock star. He's the guitarist for the biggest rock band on the planet. His band is so big that they have their own stamp. He's married to some much younger belly dancer. He's actively involved with numerous charities, and he contributed songs for the stage adaption of "A Clockwork Orange."
Teedge is ... I'm not sure what he is. His job involves sending lots of emails and attending lots of meetings, and it requires a Blackberry and pleated-front khakis. He holds the title of Doofus Overlord at what is at best the fourth-biggest Gheorghe Muresan-inspired blog on the planet. He went to William & Mary, where he hung out with me.
This isn't even close.
Advantage: The Edge
Dancing ability
Advantage: Teedge, all day
Irish taxi driving
Teedge is an accomplished Irish taxi driver, but The Edge is actually from Ireland.
Advantage: tie
Sekshul prowess
As previously stated, The Edge is a goddamn rock star married to an underaged belly dancer. Chances are he gets it done with more ease and aplomb than Tiger Woods.
Teedge is surprisingly successful with the ladies, given his physical limitations. And by that I'm not referring to his bizarre head-to-shoulder-width ratio, ghostly complexion, Shaquesque feet, or beachball belly. I refer instead to his ample supply of slim-fit condoms.
It's likely that both Teedge and The Edge suffer from the Irish Curse so rockstardom carries the day here.
Advantage: The Edge
Sartorial splendor
Teedge likes to rock a Bills jersey over festive attire. The Edge likes to wear a skully over all-black clothes.
Advantage: Teedge (the Bills jersey is an unfair advantage, even if it's an OJ jersey)
Humor
I can't find a single image of The Edge where he's trying to be funny. Teedge is always trying to be funny and typically succeeds. For instance:
Advantage: Teedge
Drinking ability and overall tolerance for inebriating substances
The Edge is a goddamn rockstar and rockstars party like, well, rockstars. But have you ever partied with Teedge? I remember the time Teedge vomitted blood and then drank a beer to settle his stomach. Even now as an old man he puts on otherworldly performances at OBFT. Even when he doesn't get the dosages right and he can't form sentences, Teedge is always up late, hanging out, in it to win it, hoping someone else will order the pizza, looking for cornhole, and losing at poker.
1) Is phenomenal. 2) Knows his stuff. 3) Knows Everything. 4) Nails it.
"Nails it" could also apply to the "sekshul prowess" category above, I'm not sure, but I'm including it in this category and if you don't like it go to hell, this is my Day 11 Gheorghemas post. Go get your own.
Teedge appeared on sports talk radio three times (look under "What is Gheorghe" on the right). He is Le (Petit) Coq Sportif.
The Edge appears on the radio but only on crap stations that play pop music and he doesn't actually say anything. He's Irish so he probably only knows about soccer, which is a crap sport. Gaelic football and hurling are Irish too, but I have no idea what they entail. But one sounds like a lewd act and the other is a euphamism for vomitting. All of this means that The Edge doesn't know shit about sports.
Advantage: Teedge
Gheorgheness
The Edge is 49 years old and he calls himself The Edge. It appears that he only wears black. He hides his balding pate under a wool beanie. He doesn't smile. He takes himself very very seriously.
Teedge is a preposterous mess. He writes and Doofus Overlords for Gheorghe: The Blog. He knows Gheorghe.
Advantage: Teedge
Final score: Teedge 7.5, The Edge 3.5
And thus we have scientific proof that Teedge is better than The Edge (in fact he's twice as good, mathematically speaking), which means that under the transitive property G:TB is better than U2. Pretty soon we'll be raking in hundreds of millions of dollars and we'll have our own Romanian stamp.
A joyous Eleventh Day of Gheorghemas and happy new year to you all.
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