I am lame. I know it, you know it, the monkey butler knows it.

Maybe once or twice a year, I will need to buy a Hot Wheels-type car (could be Matchbox, could be Ertl). No reason for it, just a pressing urge. Once I have it, it just sits around doing nothing but making my bookshelf look like a hillbilly's front yard.

Sometimes, things happen to them. Take, for example, the L.A. City utility truck I sought high and low and finally found. I was so excited to finally have it, I planned on driving downtown on a Sunday just to take forced perspective pictures of it in front of City offices. Because I am lame (see above). The day before this caper, I had lunch out en famille and the nephew was fussing so I handed him my L.A. city utility truck to distract him. When it was time for us all to move on, the boy clamped his hand around the truck and his parents carried him off. I briefly entertained the thought of prying it from his little hands but instead I stood there mournfully watching my no-longer-produced truck fade into the distance.

That was over a year ago and I thought I'd shaken the whole wee cars thing until I woke up one morning and decided I had to have Teslas. I, I just had to.

It's taken a few days but so far, I have the metallic watermelon and silver:



The info card:


Still needed are the metallic aqua and steel blue. I'd settle for just the steel blue since the aqua is meh (and I will ignore the orange because that's just ugly). Of course, it's a WalMart exclusive because, sure, why wouldn't it be?

And in the midst of all this, what do I spy with my myopic eye? A motherfucking Tesla showroom. Oh HELL no. Sure, a photo would require me to stand on a median in the middle of eight lanes of traffic and get stared at and possibly wind up on a redlight-cam and all for something out-of-focus and overexposed but it'd be entertaining, right? Right? Yeah, I know. Lame.