A true nightmare

I don’t know if I’ve perhaps been playing too much Forza 3, watching too much television or reading too many car blogs, but I actually had a dream (more like a nightmare) about the Chevy Cruze last night.  It went a little something like this:

You know those horrid ads where Howie Long (dressed in a stylish enough blazer or sweater with an infuriating white t-shirt peaking out the top) condescendingly talks to “hapless” American stereotypes about how they could be so much happier with a Malibu, Traverse or whatever else they are selling now?  Ads that seem to be trying to sell cars based on seats wide enough for childhood obesity, return policies and “cop hair?”

Yeah, well, my dreamscape last night was like one of these ads.

Howie Long, who was both spokesperson and current CEO of General Motors to me, appears randomly in my living room and wakes me up from a mid-weekend morning nap.  Perplexed, I ask Mr. Long why he is in my house.  He just smiles wryly and asks if I’ve driven a Chevy in recent memory.

“No,” I honestly reply, trying to be polite.

“Well, have you taken a look at our New GM™ products?” he inquires.

“Uh, actually, no.  I really prefer European cars and I’m not exactly in the market for a new car right now anyway,” I state, now getting impatient that this football player/executive is not only invading my home but giving me the hard sell treatment.

“Oh, I think you might be, especially after you drive our new 2011 Chevy Cruze,” says Howie, looking like he’s just eaten the canary.

“Really, Mr. Long, I don’t think that your economy car is going to be what I’m after.  I appreciate you stopping by, but as you can see out the window, there’s already and A3 and an…” I start to say as I raise the blinds.

Howie Long gives me a slightly too blank stare.

“Where are the cars?!” I yelp, running for the front door.

Outside, the sky swirls in black and white, ready to pour down an angry rain in just seconds.

“Where the hell did my car go?  This isn’t funny at all, Howie and I want this to stop!”

“Isn’t that it over there?” he asks, motioning to the top of the street.

Now I’m sprinting and the white visage of my  Simone is getting closer and…looking entirely wrong.  The diffuser is smashed and crumpled, there are small dings all over the hood, the trim strip is missing from the driver’s side and the rims have been switched out to 15 inch steel specials with Walmart hub caps.  There are even horribly tacky stickers for kid’s pop and country music acts on the hatch and a massive dent by the gas cap.

“Maybe you’re going to need a new car sooner than you thought?” says the spokes-ecutive, starting to chuckle.

The thunder rolls.  And I wake up.

(Thank god I’m not the only one that hates these ads.)