…and “Social Distancing” the Zombie Apocalypse
But back in the concrete cityscape, knee deep in the stop n’go everyday life of the walking dead, impractical eight foot beds, duallies, and quad cabs perched high atop step-ladders make daily errand running (to say nothing of parking) difficult.
Behold! the mighty Dodge Dakota.
Back in the day, the urban cowboy market was owned by this mid-sized badlander.
And a handful galloped off the line with a rev happy eight (of roughly 280 something cubes) but with noticeably more oomph than the six. Though for some reason, no one saw the wisdom of a 426 Hemi from a barn-find ‘69.
On the street, the Dakota is easily bested by its Chrysler cousins.
But with permanent Awd and selectable 4wd, classic ‘Cudas, retro Challengers, and 4 door (…seriously?) Chargers are left stranded Where The Blacktop Ends, as the Dakota takes the chase off-road …while carrying a load of lumber, barbecue fuel, and thirty-aught-six zombie repellent.
Even worse, with just a dusting of snow, those muscular Mopars are reduced to whiny liberals.
Speaking of which…
In a slap at our flag, those European weenies at Fiat disowned the Dodge Bro’s family name and rebranded the herd as Rams. Completing the gender bending by chopping off the manly gearstick and reassigning a limp-wristed gear-selecting knob.
So, now what… self-identify as Ewes?
There’s something positively un-American about building any kind of truck with more comfy-cozy luxury than a typical blue-collar home.
And can someone explain the purpose of a four foot bed? a short bed is only half a truck, or a big ugly car.
But when the night descends and the undead arise, lock n’load that transfer case…
Because with 4Hi/Lo and 3.55 git outta town gearing (and more cylinders than the full-sized, tin-foiled F150), plowing through a line of rush hour zombies or socialist snowflakes is just like plowing a line through the snow.
Just let out a rebel “Yee-haw!” and crank up them stereophonic speakers pounding out Charlie Daniel’s anthem In America! and ride on through them arm-linked, flag-burning commies.
That’s right, I said it… America!
More form the Zombie Apocalypse:
The Love Bug
And on the journey to enlightenment, the classic Beetle was the transport of truth.
Corvette Summer 454
The thunderous exhaust note is exhilarating. With a prod of the throttle, the frame wrenching four-inch stroke warps the front end.