I'm Sure They Were Canadian.

Well I think I forgot to mention my Po-Yack. The Po-Yack is a 2006 Pontiac Grand Prix that the rental agency believes I requested:

"Um, is that a Hyundai?"
"No, it's a Grand Prix."
"A Grand What?"
"Grand Prix, Pontiac, it's a midsize."
"I don't think I wanted a mid-size se-sedan."
"You didn't want the Grand Prix?"
"Do I look like I want a Grand Whatnow?"

The guy gave me a 10% discount so I had to be pretty nice about the whole mess.

Anyway, my Po-Yack and I have had all sorts of adventures that probably only Pony with respect to Monte would understand.

The dashboard is a sea of auburn red glow that, despite my sincere efforts, I have been unable to deactivate. The exterior color is neither green, blue, nor gray, but can look like any given the lighting. A chameleon she is. The lines say sports-sedan, but the girth echoes touring sedan. There's a spoiler. I really really hate her.

I want to get a bumper-sticker or a t-shirt that says "Jesus Is Driving the Po-Yack, I'm just a passenger."

That may be all there is to say about anything as unfortunate as the Po-Yack. But what really breaks my roux is that I could have bought another Peugeot (you remember the Peugeot) for what I am throwing down on Po-Yack. Sometimes the world just makes no sense. No sense tall.