Over the weekend I caught an ep of MTV's "Pimp My Ride." As I was watching the fellas at West Coast Customs work their mojo on a busted up Caddy, I had the following thoughts:
1) Big Ron won't have room for a spare tire, flares, or a tool kit in his trunk since its now home to two 15" flat panel monitors and a drum kit.
2) If Big Ron reports the upgrades to his insurance company, his premiums will fly sky-high.
3) There's no way Big Ron'll be able to afford to maintain/replace/fix anything on the Caddy.
4) WCC oughta install some kind of souped up anti-theft device like Lo-Jack 'cause Big Ron's ride is definitely a candidate for grand theft auto.
5) If he ever decides to sell the Caddy, it'll be a gigantic pain to strip out all the goodies.
When I saw Big Ron hooting for joy at the end of the episode, I shook my head a little at his innocence. Then I realized that not sharing in Big Ron's happiness planted me firmly on the side of adulthood, 'cause kids wouldn't have these thoughts. They'd just enjoy the ride.
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