Of Rally Cars and Downy Balls

My darling Object and I have - for a variety of reasons, most of which have to do with Barbara Boxer and/or Project Runway- not spent a ton of time together in the past month, as can be evidenced by the fact that I'm referring to him as my darling. Over the weekend, we took a roadtrip up to Philly to celebrate his dad's 60th birthday gala. We got a chance to reconnect, have some laughs, but most of all, the Object got a chance to showcase his driving skills, which are stell-aaaaah.

Scene: Interstate 95 - spitting rain, howling wind, and rolling fog almost completly obscure the road. The Object does something that in a desultory moment of prudishness, the Goo does not 100% approve of.
Goo: You can't do that, you redneck!
Object: How is this solely a redneck thing? Lots of people do it.
Goo: Fine, you're a stinky hippie.
Object: I'm not a hippie; name one thing about me that is hippie-like.
Goo: The car you are currently driving.
Object: My car's not hippie, it's opinionated. I took all the hippie shit off.
Goo: Then how do you explain your Roots Power sticker still back there?!
Object: Because there is roots power.

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ZoomZoom (the car): CLUNK! CLINK CLUNKEDY CLINK CLINK CLUNK!
Goo: What was that?
Object: It was not the sound of something good.
ZoomZoom: VAH-ROOOOOOOM!
Goo: Did your muffler fall off?
Object: It sounds like it. Listen to that baby purr; it sounds like a syphilitic prostitute from the slums of Calcutta.
Goo: On the bright side, now it kinda feels like we're driving a rally car!

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Scene: Interstate 95 - bright sunshine, howling wind, the Goo is starting to think about drifting into a nice Sunday afternoon nap when the car swerves almost completely off the road.
Object: Whoa, we must have hit a huge rut or something there. The car just completely lost control!
Goo: Do you think it was a rut, or the fact that you took both hands off the steering wheel? I've heard using the steering wheel is another way to control the car.

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Scene: Finally back home safely, the Object flops down on the couch only to realize he has a 9 p.m. deadline based on a bet we made earlier in the week.
Object: Wanna come with me to the new Target?
Goo: No way! You're on your own for this one. I'm telling you, they don't have Downy balls there; you won't be able to replace the ones you lost, and $25 will be mineallmine muhahahahahahahahahahah!
Object: Well, you should come to Target and fulfill your destiny as an American. We got a gift card in the mail and you can watch a cart escalator! Don't you worry about your Downy balls; I'll make sure you get some balls that are nice and downy by 9 p.m.
Goo: You are not allowed to shave your balls and put them on my face.
Object: Those were not the terms of our original negotiation! You ruin everything!
Goo: Never touch me again.