STILL PLAYS WITH CARS T SHIRT - STILL PLAYS WITH


STILL PLAYS WITH CARS T SHIRT - T SHIRTS WITH FUNNY SAYINGS ON THEM - 5 FOR 10 T SHIRT STORE.



Still Plays With Cars T Shirt





still plays with cars t shirt






    t shirt
  • A short-sleeved casual top, generally made of cotton, having the shape of a T when spread out flat

  • jersey: a close-fitting pullover shirt

  • A T-shirt (T shirt or tee) is a shirt which is pulled on over the head to cover most of a person's torso. A T-shirt is usually buttonless and collarless, with a round neck and short sleeves.

  • T Shirt is a 1976 album by Loudon Wainwright III. Unlike his earlier records, this (and the subsequent 'Final Exam') saw Wainwright adopt a full blown rock band (Slowtrain) - though there are acoustic songs on T-Shirt, including a talking blues.





    plays
  • Engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose

  • Amuse oneself by engaging in imaginative pretense

  • Engage in (a game or activity) for enjoyment

  • (play) a dramatic work intended for performance by actors on a stage; "he wrote several plays but only one was produced on Broadway"

  • (play) participate in games or sport; "We played hockey all afternoon"; "play cards"; "Pele played for the Brazilian teams in many important matches"

  • (play) a theatrical performance of a drama; "the play lasted two hours"





    cars
  • (car) a motor vehicle with four wheels; usually propelled by an internal combustion engine; "he needs a car to get to work"

  • A road vehicle, typically with four wheels, powered by an internal combustion engine and able to carry a small number of people

  • (car) a wheeled vehicle adapted to the rails of railroad; "three cars had jumped the rails"

  • A railroad car of a specified kind

  • (car) the compartment that is suspended from an airship and that carries personnel and the cargo and the power plant

  • A vehicle that runs on rails, esp. a railroad car











West Wind: Now, I can Drive




West Wind: Now, I can Drive





Processed by: mavenimagery Lab, Universal Studio, California. pHOTo
-realistic HDR

Story behind the scene: I thought it was time to trade-in my present car to my future-dream-permanent ride so I drove down to a local sports-car dealership. I entered in and began drooling at the hottest sport models in the market: SVT Mustang cobra, Ferrari 458, BMW M5 series, Honda S2000, Mercedes SLK, Porsche Boxter. As I stood next to BMW a young salesman, clean-cut, chubby-face, Mr Grin wearing a custom-made blazer, pants and shirt that matched with his shoes—shoes made the man as the tires made the car, dad used to say, not that he had ever owned a trendy shoes nor a car—and belt and silk tie who courteously greeted me. I couldn’t help feeling I was about to be arrested by a shark.
Hi there, Mr Grin said, walking with heavy, pounding steps across the showroom floor.
Hi.
Hi, I’m Bob Lutz. So, you’re into sport cars, he said.
A suitable name for a wheeler-dealer.
Yeah, who isn’t, Bob?
Well, they’re the best, he said, now grinning like a Cheshire cat, displaying a salesman positive attitude and cheerfulness that seemed rehearsed and inauthentic.
Here we go again. An ass in a lion’s skin.
I decided it was finally time to trade up.
Right. What do you have in mind?
Oh, I don’t know, I said. Looking for a…wicked car. Loud…fast, sport and manual transmission. They still make those right?
Yes, sir, he said eagerly. They sure still do.
How do they play?
Like Wynton Marsalis! Hitting each note, clean and precise.
Kevin Eubanks can do that. But does Eubanks have the chops like his heroes, Louis Armstrong and Miles Davis? I want a Miles Davis of cars not a Wynton Marsalis wanna-be Miles Davis. So, let’s see what do you have to offer?
Well, that depends, he said with a confident half a smile-half a smirk. Cunt.
Depends? Depends on what?’
On how much can you afford? Sorry, rules of business.
The Mr Hassle Guy. How much can I afford? Man, here you’re talking to Donald Trump.
So, why don’t you check my credit, see if I can finance a car? I said.
All right, he said. Let me have your social security number and I’ll get the ball rolling.
You do that.
After a while he came back, holding a piece of paper, looking in his element for tracking down the information he needed, and said, Mr Van Gent, 36 Rodent Mews. Is this your current address, sir?
Yes.
Well, everything’s okay, sir, he said. Your in luck. Now, this is Benz SLK. Top of the line. Power-windows…retractable roof, classy, elegant, 18-inch all-season tires, quite interior. This is the car f’you. Beauty, isn’t it? German engineers killed an induction noise from early models and added a bit of brrrapppp to the exhaust note under the throttle. And it still sounds subdued. A fabulous engine that makes you say ‘wow’.
I almost said ‘wow’ but I didn’t want to get palsy-valsy with people I did business with. Although I read almost every car magazine I knew only theoretically about cars—but my philosophy was this: I knew that he didn’t know that I didn’t know. That was the secret. To make the leap from the unknown to the known. I was skilled at creating a form of know-it-all impression. I was able to make staggering intellectual breakthrough and I believed that there was always something interesting to learn from others—Even from a total-goose-salesman, Mr Grin here.
Well, I said. Does it have torque of 6900 rpm?
Sure, the ratfucker lied. Did I really look that green? That hurt.
Does it have an electric-power-rack-and-pinion steering system?
Umm, yes, it has, he said unsure.
Are you sure that you’re not confusing it with Honda S2000?
He was momentarily speechless. No. No, I’m not.
Well, if it doesn’t have, you might as well be driving a Lada, right? I could see his face was reddening. I had sidetracked him. He looked puzzled.
But it has supercharged and intercooled 16-valve six cylinders.
Man, this guy has all the answers.
Man, you got all the answers. Well so does Honda, I said. And unlike SLK, which performs like runner wearing ten-pound snickers, Honda is the fastest. SLK’s indifferent throttle response, clumsy shifter. It ain’t just sport car, I said, feeling completely capable and fully in control of the situation.
What about—
Yeah, yeah, yeah! I said. Bob! Can I call you Bob?
Er, sure.
Well, listen, Bob! I said, my voice soothing and authoritative. Let me tell you something. A little voice in the back of mind—the basis of my past experience— tells me, no offense, Bob, you’re standing in front of me and lying through your teeth and telling me crap. I crap bigger than you. See, I have done it all and I’ve been everywhere. I’ve been held up pushed and shoved around; I’ve been put down bashed and burned; I’ve been shot at I’ve been locked over and over; I’ve been paralyzed; I been driftin











MEDGAR EVERS, Civil Rights Leader, Human Rights Activist




MEDGAR EVERS, Civil Rights Leader, Human Rights Activist






Medgar Evers (1925-1963), field secretary for the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), was one of the first martyrs of the civil rights movement. His death prompted President John Kennedy to ask Congress for a comprehensive civil-rights bill, which President Lyndon Johnson signed into law the following year.

The Mississippi in which Medgar Evers lived was a place of blatant discrimination where blacks dared not even speak of civil rights, much less actively campaign for them. Evers, a thoughtful and committed member of the NAACP wanted to change his native state.

He paid for his convictions with his life, becoming the first major civil rights leader to be assassinated in the 1960s.

He was shot in the back on June 12, 1963, after returning late from a meeting. He was 37 years old.

Evers was featured on a nine-man death list in the deep South as early as 1955. He and his family endured numerous threats and other violent acts, making them well aware of the danger surrounding Evers because of his activism. Still he persisted in his efforts to integrate public facilities, schools, and restaurants. He organized voter registration drives and demonstrations. He spoke eloquently about the plight of his people and pleaded with the all-white government of Mississippi for some sort of progress in race relations. To those people who opposed such things, he was thought to be a very dangerous man. "We both knew he was going to die," Myrlie Evers said of her husband in Esquire. "Medgar didn't want to be a martyr. But if he had to die to get us that far, he was willing to do it."

In some ways, the death of Medgar Evers was a milestone in the hard-fought integration war that rocked America in the 1950s and 1960s. While the assassination of such a prominent black figure foreshadowed the violence to come, it also spurred other civil rights leaders--themselves targets of white supremacists--to new fervor. They, in turn, were able to infuse their followers--both black and white--with a new and expanded sense of purpose, one that replaced apprehension with anger. Esquire contributor Maryanne Vollers wrote: "People who lived through those days will tell you that something shifted in their hearts after Medgar Evers died, something that put them beyond fear.... At that point a new motto was born: After Medgar, no more fear."

A Course in Racism

Evers was born in 1925 in Decatur, Mississippi. He was the third of four children of a small farm owner who also worked at a nearby sawmill. Young Medgar grew up fast in Mississippi. His social standing was impressed upon him every day. In The Martyrs: Sixteen Who Gave Their Lives for Racial Justice, Jack Mendelsohn quoted Evers at length about his childhood. "I was born in Decatur here in Mississippi, and when we were walking to school in the first grade white kids in their school buses would throw things at us and yell filthy things," the civil rights leader recollected. "This was a mild start. If you're a kid in Mississippi this is the elementary course.

"I graduated pretty quickly. When I was eleven or twelve a close friend of the family got lynched. I guess he was about forty years old, married, and we used to play with his kids. I remember the Saturday night a bunch of white men beat him to death at the Decatur fairgrounds because he sassed back a white woman. They just left him dead on the ground. Everyone in town knew it but never [said] a word in public. I went down and saw his bloody clothes. They left those clothes on a fence for about a year. Every Negro in town was supposed to get the message from those clothes and I can see those clothes now in my mind's eye.... But nothing was said in public. No sermons in church. No news. No protest. It was as though this man just dissolved except for the bloody clothes.... Just before I went into the Army I began wondering how long I could stand it. I used to watch the Saturday night sport of white men trying to run down a Negro with their car, or white gangs coming through town to beat up a Negro."

Evers was determined not to cave in under such pressure. He walked twelve miles each way to earn his high school diploma, and then he joined the Army during the Second World War. Perhaps it was during the years of fighting in both France and Germany for his and other countries' freedom that convinced Evers to fight on his own shores for the freedom of blacks. After serving honorably in the war he was discharged in 1946.

Evers returned to Decatur where he was reunited with his brother Charlie, who had also fought in the war. The young men decided they wanted to vote in the next election. They registered to vote without incident, but as the election drew near, whites in the area began to warn and threaten Evers's father. When election day came, the Evers brothers found their polling place blocked by an armed crowd of white Mississippians, estimated by E









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