If you’re feeling a sort of ache in your chest, perhaps feeling a bit of a void, a yawning chasm of unfulfilled desire, let me tell you that not only do I understand, but I have the solution. Yes, that’s correct, this is one of those rare cases where some random dipshit on the internet has not only determined what’s ailing you, but is ready and willing to immediately provide the remedy. In this case the problem is that you’ve gone far, far too long without a new edition of The Autopian’s Automotive Would You Rather, and the solution is that you’re reading the latest one right now. Enough waiting! Let’s get to it!
SCENARIO ONE: The Enchanted Clown Wig Of Driving Protection
You’re out driving one day, and as you pass by an alley, you catch a horrific scene out of the corner of your eye: what appears to be a man, prone on the ground, covered by squirrels and pigeons that are savaging him brutally. You skid to a halt and bolt to the man’s aid, sending bloody-mouthed squirrels and dripping-talon pigeons scattering.
You drag the figure to safety, and realize with a start that it’s a clown. You choke back the natural revulsion that any well-adjusted human feels when encountering a clown, and do your best to get him cleaned up and dress his many wounds. The clown is very appreciative, and is calming down from the harrowing experience.
“You have done me an incredible service, my friend,” the tall, gaunt clown tells you, shifting so his huge shoes are no longer alarmingly close to your groin.
“My people and the Squirelo-Pigeonic Alliance have been at war for centuries,” the clown continued, as though that statement made any sense. “I’m Scrambles, Vizier to the Great Crown Clown King Slappy III, and I’m in an unusually good position to reward you for your heroism. I have with me many ancient Clownian artifacts, including the Enchanted Clown Wig of Driving Protection.”
The clown pulls a damp rainbow wig from his fanny pack and places it on your head. It smells like a beer died by crashing a plane full of Circus Peanuts into a wet dog the size of an Econoline.
“This wig has a special, highly specific power: as long as you are wearing it, whatever automobile you are driving can never, ever crash. Not even a fender bender. Nothing. The wig was developed by a special clown R&D division at Volvo, using dark runic magic. The wig was liberated by clown ninjas in the 1970s and has since been used to reward Friends Of Clownian Causes. Which, at this moment, is you.”
The clown then fixes you with a penetrating stare and issues a warning:
“Do not take the power of the Clown Wig of Driving Protection lightly: while it is quite infallible in practice – even driving like a blindfolded moron on an icy won’t end in a wreck – but people will find out and want you to drive them all the time. Governments will try to force you to drive their heads of state, drug kingpins and mafia bosses will try to kidnap you, and all of your most nervous friends will goad you into driving them on every damn road trip, you get it.
This is as much a burden as it is a benefit! Be wary!”
And with that, the clown flung a pellet to the ground and disappeared in a cloud of cotton candy, leaving you alone in the alley, wearing the wig.
SCENARIO TWO: The Cats Conundrum
You’re delighted to find yourself at The Tail of The Dragon, driving your ratty but beloved Honda CRX up and down the winding road, having a blast. After a few runs you stop at the Iron Works Grill and Pub for some lunch, your mind wandering to all the wonderful cars you’d love to wring out on that road.
While you’re sitting, lost in thought, mouthful of cheeseburger, someone sits down across from you at your table. It’s Tom Hooper, the director of the infamous 2019 flop Cats, the movie based on the long-running Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. In case you forgot, here’s the trailer:
Oof.
Tom Hooper seizes your arm with surprising strength. He’s been watching you, he tells you, and he appreciates what he sees. He can tell that, like him, you’re a genuine gearhead, and he can also tell that you have driving desires that far outstrip your limited means. But he has an idea.
You see, he wants a gearhead friend, but, more specifically, a gearhead friend he can watch Cats with at least twice a month, and then be told how amazing the movie was, and how he, Tom Hooper, was robbed of the accolades and adoration he clearly deserved.
If you agree to be Tom Hooper’s gearhead friend, and watch Cats every other week with him, gushing about how much you love it, then Tom will buy you whatever car you want. He’ll buy you up to four a year, no questions asked. He has the means to do this (his grandfather invented the idea of coziness and has been raking in royalties on the concept for over a century) and he, as a gearhead himself, is willing to indulge whatever automotive desires you may have with genuine, unmasked enthusiasm.
But, of course, every other weekend you’ll be spending at his mountain house, hours from the nearest city, with no cell or wifi service, watching Cats, over and over. And then you’ll be saying effusive things about it, directly to the man who made it happen. Over and over.
He also wants to show you the butthole cut, which absolutely does exist.
So, what will it be? Absolute automotive safety via rainbow clown wig, or being besties with automotive benefits with the guy responsible for Cats?
The guy who pointed out that maybe you could resell the cars has me interested… But the clown thing. I’ve definitely had wrecks, but everybody always makes me drive anyway. And mostly I’d love to take a few fearless rips up highway 1 in Marin county like I’m stupid and in my 20’s again.
I would rather be stuck in Dubbo with that huntsman spider in David’s Valiant Ute than either one of these scenarios.
Actually the Dubbo one sounds kinda fun. It has been awhile since I went down under and I have never been further south than Townsville.
Whoop Whoop
Got to wig it. Financially speaking they are both equal. Chauffeur rich people or selling cars. But I’m brutally honest and sarcastic. While I don’t watch any of my favorite movies that often I could do so if forced. But the pretend to love it? Ain’t gonna happen. Don’t mind the wig I was thinking about wearing a clear helmet over it for a weird vibe but noone knows it’s a wig under a helmet.
I want to challenge reality in the Clown Wig. Enter a demolition derby, ram a police barricade, drive a taxi in Rome. See how the fabric tears. Eventually the world finds out I have a valuable and unique ability. I’ll find a job I like that pays well.
Beats kissing a cats butt for treats.
Not sure how I missed this yesterday, but free of collision safety concerns whole categories of fun cars open up. NA Monster Miata with a big ol’ blower? Daily an Arial Atom? Open top motoring in a giant clown wig while driving without giving one shit? Rent myself out at historic racing events to Billionaire owners of priceless death traps – in a clown wig! Hell yes.
Branding is important, so I AM CLOWN STIG!
some say he can never crash and that his hairstyle is questionable at best, but all we know is that he smells like a wet dog
The clown wig doesn’t protect you from getting a ticket or arrested, so you still have to drive responsibly and thus pointless.
If I can re-sell the cars Tom buys me I only have to put up with it for a a little bit.
There are no winners here.
Having seen Cats, I think I have to choose the wig. I’d let slip how terrible it was at some point and lose my deal. And it would not take long.
Besides, if governments and companies are all vying for my driving services, I could probably negotiate pretty damn good terms for a contract.
But it was a tough choice.
Cats.
I have done worse things for a new car.
I’d say neither but I did hit a deer yesterday, so maybe the wig?
I also end up driving in blizzards a few times a year, who needs visibility or traction when you have a clown wig?
Can I get shit-faced drunk for the Cats viewings?
I really wanted to go with cats and a constant stream of amazing cars into my collection. Wow, that would be amazing…
But I just don’t know if I could handle having half my weekends spoken for, to be in isolation, watching cats again and again. I’m only human. I just couldn’t do it.
Clown wig it is
Clown wig. Just drive like you regularly do and no one would know that the wig had magical powers. Simple. Sure people would be confused at my driving cap but luckily I’m a bit eccentric anyways so it wouldn’t be too out of character for me.
Clown wig. I can drive safely and no one will want to talk to me. Win win.
I like driving, but I don’t like chauffeuring. That would eventually feel like daily torture.
Cats it shall be, because the torture is only every two weeks.
I am one of those Sensitive Men Of The 90’s (AKA B.G.A.M.D.)that loves the stage play of Cats and actually worked backstage on it so I could probably tolerate watching the movie (or my soul would explode), but definitely would go with the wig. Aside from the excellent suggestions of restyling and other stealth maneuvers (no pride either, I would just wear it), you could make a fortune as a security driver for select rich people and government officials and then buy whatever cars you wanted anyway. And if you wanted to be in the assassination game the clown said nothing about not CAUSING accidents.
The clown wig. If you’ve completely stated all of the stipulations, then, nothing was said about being able to have the wig washed and styled however I please.
After I got over the joy of wearing it while driving the “ring” and setting records at Bonneville, I’d have it dyed and styled into something that would fit on a character from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, and then wear the hell out of it on my way to a perfect driving record driving the most fun vehicles I can get my grubby mitts on.
Bring on the cat butts! And give me the keys to my new McLaren P1 please.
Can you imagine how Jason Statham would look and how even more amazing The Transporter movies would have been had Statham been wearing said Clown Wig? The mind bogs…boggles, or something. Or, whatever.
CLOWN WIG
CLOWNWIGCLOWNWIGCLOWNWIGpleasedon’tmakemewatchCatsCLOWNWIGCLOWNWIGCLOWNWIG
Please don’t clown shame. Just don’t.
I think I’ll take the wig – and deeply-tinted windows.
Well, it does say he won’t ask any questions, so he presumably wouldn’t ask “Did you eat some mushrooms before watching Cats for the 8th time?”
On the other hand I think I could handle the clown wig if I could wear something else over it, like a helmet or another wig or something.
It’s gotta be Cats. Imagine being forced at gunpoint to put on a smelly wig.
I was gonna go with the Clown Wig because a Wig of Automotive Invulnerability would be awesome, I could cancel my car insurance (it’s optional in New Hampshire), and I am the sort of weirdo who gives absolutely no fucks about wearing a clown wig in public. Plus, Cats is pure cringe.
But then you said that I’d be watching it at Tom Hooper’s house in the mountains? Meaning that, not only do I get up to four of any car I want every year (meaning I’d never have to work again, since there’s no prohibition on selling them) I also get to spend a couple of weekends every month chilling in a presumably sweet-ass rich-guy cabin in the middle of a mountainous wilderness, and all I have to do is spend a few hours out of that weekend watching a bad movie and pretending to like it? And if I ever really get sick of it, I can just stop anytime (you didn’t say I can’t) and retire to Tahiti with the proceeds of the dozen or so multi-million-dollar rare classics that I’d sold at auction over the preceding few years?
Fuck it, apparently my dignity is for sale after all. Cats it is.
“Work” four or five hours a month and make all of the money I’d reasonably need for the rest of my life after five years or drive around a bunch of (more than likely) A-Holes for more hours and more money than I’d need for the rest of my life? It’s tough but I’d rather spend as little time as possible around A-Holes as possible.
Not to mention that the clown hat only protects the car from accidents, the occupants aren’t covered if I read the fine print correctly.
Of course your dignity is for sale… everyone has their price…
My firm policy is to never trust a Vizier. But, I like to play on variable-traction surfaces, so I think I should go with the wig. Especially since-right at the end there-the Cats thing changed from viewing it twice per month to multiple viewings twice per month
I choose to read that sentence as, “Every other weekend, over and over, you have to watch Cats,” rather than, “You have to watch Cats, over and over, every other weekend.”