The village idiot of Las Vegas checks out Jayball's new car.

"Damn boy, that's the latest model. Let's go for a ride," I hopped in the passenger side and he fired up the baby. It was the smell, oh that new car smell...there's nothing quite like it. The dash was cherry wood, leather seats and the engine purred like a kitty - "Jethro, check this out, the seats have warmers in them. So if your balls get cold you can warm them," he flips the switch and I immediately feel a  tingle. "What did you do with your old ride?" I ask.  Jayball's old ride was a 2012 Escalade - "Jethro, when I saw this bad boy at the dealership, I couldn't get it out of my mind. As much as I loved my Escalade. I had to have the Rover, so I traded her in," he says with a smile

"I have to drop you off. I am meeting a new broad in 30 minutes. Maybe I'll ask if she has a friend - on second thought, if she saw your car, she'd take off running." As he is dropping me off, he can't help but make another smart ass comment - "What year is that piece of shit? That has to be the worst looking car in Las Vegas. You should take that down to the junk yard right now."

I can't let him leave without sticking up for Rosie (my cars nickname, she is a 1994 Kia with plenty of character) -"I've got to tell you something. You've never lived until you drive a car with bullet holes in it," the bullet holes were present before my ownership. Jayball, who always has to have the last word in, says this as he is driving away - "You need the guy who shot the bullet holes in that shit box to come back and throw a stick of dynamite in it for you."