Pimp my ride

When Chat was here last month and a Mercedes SLR McLaren drove by us, her jaw dropped and she was beside herself. "Who in the world drives an SLR in this island?" I said, "Obviously, that man in that SLR." "Mother, that is such a profound insight, but seriously, do you know how much that thing cost?" I was going to respond with a quote from Shakespeare but then I forgot the line, or that Shakespeare even said it. So I just said "cost doesn't matter to me because I can't even afford a junk Japanese toy car." I said it in that voice, the kind you use when you want your man to buy you something, but you know he won't.

Well, if Chat was skeptical about the Mercedes SLR gliding along in this dumpy island, she was even mortified that her own mother is seriously wishing for this Japanese surplus. "Mom, I could get you a Pajero." "But you don't understand, this is what I need for the mountain and this is what I want." I didn't really think she would buy it for me because she kept calling it a smurf car, a golf cart, a smurfette---everything she could think of, except for what it is: my red Ferrari.