Inevitable Inventory Expansion Tempered by Parking Improvements

CWMC Headquarters, Ardrossan, Ab: The days are getting longer, and a fresh crop of weeds is just starting to cover up the large, dead, car-shaped rectangles scattered randomly around the compound where last year's crop of freebie fuckpails festered unfettered by notions of suburban presentability or neighbourly goodwill.

The Domestic Car Division, tired of playing a smoky, leaking, muffler-less version of musical chairs with the never-ending rotating shitstorm of impossibly fucked-up clunkers that pass for the President's car collection, had decided to appropriate some permanent outdoor parking spaces at the expense of several dozen trees in various states of deadness and falling-over-ness. Chainsaws were procured, and several perfectly good hours of goofing-off time were sacrificed to the betterment of the parking situation. When the 2-stroke smoke settled, a tidy spot was secured for the latest of the Domestic Car Division' s Zero Funding Restorations.

  The President had acquired a 1950 Chevrolet Fleetline Deluxe in a series of trades of in- creasingly dubious reasoning, and multiple Agents had dedicated hours of precious off-duty time to the cause of getting the junkyard-condition fastback into something very close to a driveable state (not stoppable, mind); requiring a number of "field engineering" modifications by Agent 533 that rivaled any last-minute bullshit that the A-Team ever pulled off. Crusty 5-spoke Raiders astern mismatched to mummified F78-14s on vintage slots by the master Agent 100013 furnished the finishing touches to this finest hour for the DCD.

The dedication ceremony was kicked off with a speech by the President himself; surpassingly long-winded and gratuitously profane to such an extent that only those possessed of the most robust constitutions and sturdiest stomachs were able to attend the event in its entirety.

The Hill of Shame: not quite exactly like Pebble Beach.

   Following another short recess for half-time bong rips and a few refreshing double G&Ts, the President, with some small measure of assistance from Agent 8771 for the unorthodox starting procedure, was able to back the Chev into its new home on only the third attempt and with only minor cosmetic carnage ensuing.

  When asked to specify his plans for the fossilized Fleetline, the Prez replied that he "wasn't made aware that there had to be a plan" and went back to watching a youtube compilation video of himself being "helped" out of various well-known eating and drinking establishments; all set to a lively banjo soundtrack and with queasy gastrointestinal overdubs added for effect.

Full Vintage Motorboat Division Approval, of course.

  Other recently acquired treasures have been gathering on the CWMC Hill of Shame; a kind of provincial purgatory where dead vehicles of various varieties await their individual fates. Some sit stationary for want of wheels while others enjoy a last few moments of freedom before making the final journey to the junkyard. Still others have just arrived and sit in limbo while a gin-tastic President heroically performs a rudimentary triage to assign locations based on the chances of salvation; ranging from "Not very likely" all the way to "Extremely Goddamn Unlikely". 
  Among these new pieces we find a unit looking suspiciously like a motorboat, minus the motor and also short quite a number of boat-like qualities, such as water-tightness. It does, however, score pretty highly on the "Does it have cool tail fins?" question. The President defended the decision to take the junk collecting to the next level by suggesting that the 1959 Larson Thunderhawk would be "pretty goddamn sweet" were it restored and fitted with the appropriate gigantic, smoky OMC V4 or Merc "Tower of Power".
 All Agents are requested to keep watching this newsletter for declassified updates as the scene at HQ continues to deteriorate under the current administration.