I’m No DW, but…

The Dude drove up in his trustworthy Ranchero. The car wasn’t in the best of shape, but it got him where he needed to go.

“I’d like to trade in my car,” said the Dude to the salesman.

“Okay, let’s go look at the new Windsurfers. We have a brand new convertible if you’d like something that can change with your mood. They’re very popular in New England.”

“Well, to be honest, I’d like something that can really fly. Why don’t you get me one of them F-18 Constitutions.”

“Uh, sir, you can’t just buy a fighter jet. Why don’t we just look at the Windsurfer.”

“What kind of moron do you take me for? I hate Windsurfers! Besides, they flip too easily when you’re drivin’ real fast.”

“Sorry sir, I didn’t mean to infer anything. It’s just that it’s quite impossible to sell you a plane, especially one with machine guns. We only sell Windsurfers here. What’s wrong with your Ranchero?”

“Listen, the Constitution is the only vehicle that meets my standards. I believe that religiously. I need perfection in my vehicle. That’s something that my Ranchero and your Windsurfers don’t have.”

“Well, I don’t think I can help you. We don’t sell what you want.”

“Just to soothe my conscience, let me pay for one.”

“What? You want to pay us for a plane? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I want all you companies to know that your cars don’t meet my standards and that there’s a real market for fighter jets.”

And with that, the Dude handed the salesman a check and sped off into the wild blue sunset.

Last I heard, he was driving a Windsurfer.

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