The Brunching Shuttlecocks Features

About the same time that my beloved import decided it was time for a new timing belt, water pump, shock absorber thingy, muffler, rear axle, passenger side mirror, brake pad, wheel casing, cup holder and windshield wiper, I decided it was time for a new car. This time, I was gonna get an American Made Work of Art. I shopped around, visiting the Fords, the Dodges, the Olds, the News, and then I arrived at the home of the Saturns.

My first thought was that getting my picture taken with my dealer was a huge incentive for buying their product. I mean come on, who doesn't want a bunch of car salesmen to applaud you for giving them money? And then there's always the chance that I'm an interesting enough person that they'll want to make a commercial out of me. But I wasn't being flown 250 miles to the dealership and I didn't own an emu, so the chances were slim.

"No Pressure" is the motto of this institution. And it held true. No one bothered me with hundreds of pricing plans, thousands of useless incentives or the vanity mirror. In fact, they took their motto so seriously that I had to eventually club one of the dealers with a handy fungo bat to get their attention.

I test drove one of their "vehicles." It was a pleasurable experience, filled with joy and rapture. Then came the hard sales pitch. "What do you want with you car?" I asked for a double helping of cole slaw and a side of fries. The deal was made. Now I just had to wait for my car to show up.

Eventually it did, but not before it was birthed in the Tennessee factory. The Saturn Family let me know when my car was going to be born, and invited me to Tennessee to watch the operation as my Saturn was pushed through the birth canal of the Mama Saturn. I declined. Then it was shipped out to me, to my eagerly waiting hands.

As I took the reigns of my beloved, a crowd of dealers sprung out from nowhere and welcomed me into their little family. They gave me a rousing fraternity cheer, showed me the secret handshake, made me drink from a skull, had me swear allegiance to an obscure Middle Eastern deity and took the required blackmail photo. And I was on my way.

I am now a Proud Saturn Owner. I attend barbecues, help out in my community and continue preparations for world dominance. Soon, you too will own a Saturn.

Watch out, we're coming.

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