I helped Mitt Romney get where he is today, and where he might be tomorrow.
I bought a car that Mitt’s dad built.
It was an American Motors Ambassador Rambler.
The picture above is just like the one I had, but mine was a beige color.
It was an ugly car, but I was fond of it.
One night after work I showed some co-workers how fast it could go in reverse, but I forgot to look behind me where a cement light pole resided.
The collision produced a little pain in my neck, and I couldn’t open my trunk because the lid had imploded from the impact.
(I’m referring to the trunk of my car, not to my elephant’s.)
Laughter emanating from bystanders hurt the most.
I laughed to disguise how embarrassed I was.
I liked my Ambassador Rambler more every day, and I looked behind me a lot, even when I wasn’t going in reverse.
One time a very large Cadillac was behind my Rambler, and I guess its driver decided his vehicle should merge with my rear end.
He didn’t back off, so I decided to slam on the brakes.
That large Cadillac had some good brakes, too, so that another implosion was averted, but the Cadillac man jumped out of his chariot, and came over and began thumping on my dear Rambler’s window, demanding that I open the door, but I didn’t, and instead thrust my foot down hard on my gas petal, and listened to the sweet music being played by my own chariot’s 4-barrel carburetor.
That big Cadillac never had a chance.
The light had changed.
Just like I hope Mitt Romney does in November!
IT’S THE OIL STUPID!