Commenter Of The Day: Gourmet Grocery Stores

Because I'm a yuppie, I tend to live near gourmet upscale grocery stores. I mean places that make Whole Foods look like a Piggly Wiggly and are always the combination of two names: Billingham & Jeeves, Lord & Nice, Imbred & Haughty. You can't get ground chuck, you can only get kobe beer-fed beef ground up with goat cheese. Because I'm a yuppie, I sort of like it. Fresh ingredients are great and variety is fun, but lately these stores seem to exist only to serve crazy expensive crap. Like, if the bodega down the street has fresher, tastier vegetables I'm going there and I don't really care if you call your junk "organic" and was picked by monks in the Alps. We imagine the guy cooking on his Porsche probably shops at one of these places, unless he's cooking something else as Elhigh believes.

So I'm riding behind this Boxster in E. TN. Paused at a light. Roll right up behind him. Poseurboy adjusts his mirrored shades, and then his rearview mirror. Apparently he views my ancient, peeling Japanese pickup with withering disdain, or he's royally impatient with the interminable 25-second delay in his personal LeMans. Whatever the cause, he guns his engine. Vroom – not a big vroom like a big-boy's Porsche, but vroom.

Light changes. From the arse end of this little dinky car with the engine in the middle end comes the most Gawdawful Freakin Huge Cloud o' Smoke. It's like being the bad guy in Spy Hunter. I couldn't see a thing – not the road, not the curb, and sure as hell not the Boxster. I backed way off the gas and let the cloud pull ahead. Oh yeah. The Porsche is spewing its guts, or maybe lifeblood. It smells like coolant and oil – in fact, it seems to smell a lot like a blown head gasket.

It smells like karma.

Keep your vroom to yourself, big guy.

Lessee here, when did this happen exactly? About an hour ago. Then I stopped for lunch. And while I smiled around my Wendy's Double and a copy of Ringworld Engineers, I thought to myself, sometimes Porsches cook a lot more than just meat – sometimes they cook money.

Smells like Benjis...