Creepy Car Cool
Truck balls and velvet SUV stools, anyone?
By Novella Carpenter
I'm privy to a lot of niche auto fetishes and half-baked ideas, and I'm always left wondering: Are these for real? I want to draw attention to them, but none really warrants a full-blown column. Then I realized I could just herd them together and present them as a menagerie of freakish, and possibly made-up, car-related accessories and/or lifestyles. Bingo!
Truck balls: Cover your children's eyes if they are reading over your shoulder. While researching the phenomenon of women who love big trucks, I discovered something that reinforced my conviction that a truck can be a replacement for a man, yet I could not bear to mention it, because who--who?!--would actually hang a pair of chrome testicles from the back of his or her truck? Well, someone would--check it out at www.bullsballs.com.
"Delightfully tacky, yet unrefined," the website smirks and then offers photos. Oh, God. Blue balls, gold balls, huge balls that are kind of anatomically correct to hang from your trailer hitch. They range in size from six to 10 inches long and retailing for around $30 each. I wondered how I could prevent the likely theft of such a handsome accessory. Well, never fear, because, the website writes, the "chain balls allow more ways to hang, and they remain swinging even when pulling a trailer. Also, with the chain and padlock, they are much more secure from theft."
Thank heavens. Do you see why I just had to tell someone about this? I'm a haunted woman--more so because I'm actually not sure whether or not this is a joke product, or if someone would really proudly display them. Texas, please advise.
Luxurious luxury items: Boy, I'll never understand the luxury market, especially when it revolves around accessories for your car, since I can barely vacuum out the beast once every five years. But please, check out www.suvinteriors.org for a strange jolt of this-can't-be-for-real! They've got chandeliers, Moroccan wall sconces and lace curtains made special for your giant SUV. Since the products are divided up into categories like the Patriot (American flag floor mats), the Elite Family (velvet stepping stool) and Roosevelt Expedition (antlers for the hood), I thought this might be a legitimate accessory website. I mean, somebody really might need a velvet stepping stool or a "Honk If You Love America" bumper sticker.
But I got a little weirded-out by the baby black bear rug. "This high-quality rug is not a reproduction," explains the website. "Made from the hide of a baby black bear, it's [sic] head is intact with adorable glass eyes. $1,200." Yet our car culture is messed up just enough that I'm still not sure whether they're serious or joking! I mean, wouldn't Charlton Heston want a real baby black bear rug in his trunk compartment? In the end, I decided this was a hoax, mostly because the prices were so high--$150 for five bumper stickers? No way.
BioBling: Finally, we've got environmentalists mixing pimp culture at www.biobling.com--at least I think we do. A woman suggested I visit the site and gave me her business card, which was a small bag of sweet peas with her name on it, so how can I not trust her? BioBling apparently will set you up with not only an environmentally friendly, biodiesel vehicle, but that vehicle will also be acceptable in the picky social world of DJs and celebrities.
The site features cars that I never knew could use biodiesel: a 1983 Cadillac Seville with a red velvet interior, and better yet, a 1979 Cadillac El Dorado Biarritz Diesel, white-on-white on burgundy with stainless steel roof. I believe that driving one of these cars will increase your chances of getting laid. In order to get your biobling ride, just fill out an application, and submit whether you want a straight-shooter, a workhorse, high roller or a pimp ride. I think they'll call you back when they find a fit. But, but--is it for real? Why don't you find out?
Haunted by the bull? E-mail Novella at email@example.com.
From the July 27-August 2, 2005 issue of the North Bay Bohemian.
© 2005 Metro Publishing Inc.