CWMC Agents Infiltrate "Classic" Car Auction and Steal the Only Good Car

Some Warehouse, Edmonton South Side: Auction day: Mustangs and Camaros. The usual Mr Goodwrench jackets, Bob Drake shirts, cheap shoes and ugly eyeglasses betraying an unmitigated sectarian militancy rarely seen outside countries that didn't used to belong to England or France. Strangely, this type of posturing is seldom seen among collectors of actual cars from either of those countries. Nervous without appropriate car-person camo, CWMC Agents enter, being careful of the floor greasy with tire dressing, and talk loudly of camshaft lobe centerlines to compensate for their lack of colours. The President was satisfied to notice that the only attendees that actually arrived in classic cars were all CWMC Agents, including Agent 1229 in a fantastic all-original 1988 Chrysler T&C woody wagon K-car.



1229's sweet Agency K-car woody

  Eyes burning from the spray-can fumes, they survey the fodder lining the parking lot; will there be any bright spots? Will this be another afternoon of searching in vain for a decent car at one of these sad dumping grounds for the bottom feeders in the shittiest pond in town?

  The President, still a bit buzzed off his "morning double" G&T and smoking a roach he found in one of the Camaros, was initially disappointed. What he had thought was a Peugeot 403 across the hall turned out to be a Pontiac Strato-Chief, and the guy in the rumpled overcoat wasn't Peter Falk. In fact, that wasn't even a cigar he was holding.

The worst car in the world- again!

  Agent 8771, meanwhile, had spotted some potential in a '79 'Bird hidden in the back, being thoroughly ignored by the vast majority of the tire-kickers. It was beginning to look like Operation Irony Sled would get off the ground, after all. Also short-listed were the 1981 Eldorado with continental kit, and a 1977 Mark V in powder blue.

  While 644 registered to bid, the President and Agent 533 took an entertaining stroll through the inventory, pausing more than occasionally to marvel at how far the definition of classic car will be stretched in these auction situations. 1993 Olds 98? Did the sign say "Derby Car Auction Today"? Agent 533 was heard to comment "This is the worst car in the world" so many times the phrase lost its meaning. He was not incorrect, though, and watching the auction staff try to get any of the cars to actually run was a source of some levity.


533 checks out some British Metal

  Agent 644 was registered, and the 'Bird was set to roll through early in the day. After the first couple of cars either failed to sell, or failed to start, or just failed at life, the mood was tense among the Agents. Would everyone just bid on the first car that ran? Next, the 'Bird was up; but what was wrong? The Caddy in front of 644's T-Bird wouldn't start, and none of the staff could figure out how to open the hood. Normally, the Prez would stay so far away from a situation like that, but to get things rolling he just went over and opened the hood, figuring that 15 minutes of fucking-around by the "experts" was quite enough. 
  After the Caddy had made it to the door, the 'Bird was up. Would everyone else recognise the only good car, and bid the price way up? Was it a lost cause, trying to get a good deal at these things?
  No. The bidding started at $500, and was lethargic up to about $1500, when the auctioneer finally noticed Agent 644, who bought the car with a single bid of $1700! Less than half of what was bid on the most disgusting Camaro this reporter has ever seen.



Agent 688 out showing off in her new Cruiser



  As is traditional in these situations, you never take a good look at a car until you've already bought it. In this case, Agent 644 had bought a clean, rust free, smooth-running mega-irony disco sled with perfect glass and new tires to boot. Full Presidential Approval was quickly issued, and all that remains is for Agent 644 to present an unsuspecting Agent 688 her new Agency Cruiser.

Addendum: Agent 688 has taken delivery of her cruiser and reports all systems are go. Nice work as usual for all Agents!

CWMC Compound Declared Disaster Area Again This Year

CWMC Headquarters, Ardrossan, Ab:  With April almost in the books, the snows have finally begun to recede, and with them the last camoflage for the diabolical cataclysmic shitstorm that had been so thoroughly hidden for so long that the President, unable even on a good day to remember more than two-thirds of the alphabet, has spent hours rediscovering lost treasures among the stacks of broken bottles, dead batteries, twisted sheet metal and mountains of empty bondo cans. 

Fresh stock arriving daily

  The Prime Minister today made it official and declared the CWMC compound a Disaster Area Unfriendly Toward Humans. He struggled to keep it together during a recent flyover in a rented CBC Traffic News helicopter, saying only that "The sheer depth of the depravity and un-paralleled shitty-ness of the whole thing is really hard to comprehend. Maybe once, twice in a generation will we be witness to a scene of such post-apocalyptic chaos. Surely something must be done."

Agent Stella guards the merch.

  The President responded to the emerging crisis by first blaming everyone else he could think of, followed by a short bout of denial, and finally on to a series of fervently presented but hopelessly impractical "solutions" that have no value at all except as public relations horseshit and were all therefore unanimously approved. The President has since been handed a blank cheque to improve the situation on the ground.

  "It is with great pride that I hereby declare the CWMC Used Tires and Other Shit Division open for business." said His Hammered-ness at a hastily cobbled-together and somewhat under-attended ribbon-cutting earlier this afternoon. When some propeller-heads suggested that the whole thing looked a touch under-structured and more than a little bit cheaply contrived to scam taxpayer funding, the President immediately concurred and continued pouring double G&T's well into the evening before "closing the store" and trying to remember where he lived, and if it might be nearby.

0311's Custom Exhaust Division is Open for Business

CWMC Chassis Engineering Division, Ardrossan, Ab: All Agents take note: 0311's passion for performance and quality is moving to the next level as he abandons his meaningless professional engineer status to persue his lifelong ambition of manufacturing custom exhaust systems out of bean cans and screw-style hose clamps of various diameters.

Another perfect repair.

  When his beloved Agency S.C.U.M.  Cruiser 1979 Volvo 245 (somehow not yet impounded by the police) started making enough racket to raise eyebrows and set off car alarms (see Banned Accessories in Agency Handbook) in posh car parks downtown, 0311 didn't just head for the nearest muffler shop, or worse, new-car dealership, he again took matters into his own hands and "...fixed that shit right up" in the time-honoured tradition.

  This latest in a long series of bean-can-do success stories owes so much to all the years 0311 spent honing his can-craft skills on a who's-who list of the worst cars ever employed by a still reasonably non-alcoholic professional.
  "This was a fairly straightforward downpipe upgrade," said 0311 today during a debriefing session held (as usual) at the Burger Baron on 75 street, "nothing as fancy as some of my earlier pieces, some of which entailed multiple

- layers of stacked repairs for optimum performance."

  The President was on hand during the process to offer moral support and administer bong hits as required to keep everything rolling along smoothly. After several revisions to the original plans had been drafted, checked, and signed, the actual work would continue well into the night, with several unavoidable stops for beer and drugs only fuelling the relentless drive for perfection.
  All Agents are encouraged to attend one of 0311's seminars on the subject of bean-can engineering solutions. A thorough and entertaining lecture is followed by some hands-on training time and, as usual, it all wraps up with some serious boozing to keep things friendly.

Agent 747's Citroen Practically Finishing Itself

 747's Top-Secret Facilite- Francaise, Ardrossan, Ab: With spring fast approaching, Agent 747 has again renewed his annual pledge to return his Agency Cruiser 1966 Citroen DS to the road this year, pending completion of the simple, straightforward reassembly process familiar to Citroen enthusiasts worldwide.

  A mere 27 years after taking the car apart (2 businesses, 3 shops and 4 houses ago), Agent 747 is casually reassembling his own version of the car he completely dismantled in a fit of unparalleled optimism and idealistic niavite back in the days of viable Peugeot franchises and profitable Lada salesmanship.

  Draining a substantial savings account built up over years of curbing totalled Civics and Corollas (many with the President's signature patch 'n' splash body work), Agent 747 is closing in on what will be the most exhaustively re-engineered DS in Canada, featuring plenty of Johnny Cash-like "One Piece at a Time"-style upgrades. The DS is a car well-suited to mix 'n' match parts sourcing, especially when your yard is packed with the remains of at least a dozen D's of unknown origin and age. 747's Cruiser will feature early-style dashboard, "frogeye" fenders with optional fogs, and a later DS-23 full leather interior, along with a rare 5-speed column-shift transmission from one of the last models. Even the President is Fully Terrified at the number of potential compatibility issues to be overcome. Just in case the project was becoming too simple, 747 has redesigned and built an entirely new wiring harness from scratch, using only a Yoda-like holistic vision of French electrics, and a lot of shrink-wrap.

  The President's own DS, currently acting as a shelf for Ford parts, awaits the attention of Agent 747 in the hope that this 27-year schedule can be bumped up a bit in order to free up some workshop space for any one of the dozen or so pieces of shit still languishing in the cold storage bunker.

  "I guess I'll just try to remember where I put everything..." said the President in a brief phone interview from the Days Inn in Lloydminster, where another court-mandated trip to rehab is failing spectacularly as usual.

 Updates to follow as they are declassified.

Global Economic Meltdown Has Little Effect on Demand for Sweet Hot Rods

 CWMC Body Works Division, Ardrossan, Ab: The complete collapse of our world-wide-pyramid-scheme economic system is apparently unable to stem demand for old, pre-war Ford sedans and coupes that have been fitted at great expense with hugely powerful engines and, most fortunately for the President, ridiculously self-indulgent paint jobs requiring hundreds and hundreds of hours of meticulous fucking-around. 
  "I am pretty sure John Maynard Keynes would shake his head at the state of things on a macroeconomic level," said the President today in a telephone interview from his private yacht, the SS Rich Asshole "but even Keynes would probably want a couple extra coats of clear and a polished intake manifold."
  While governments around the world encourage their own citizens to crush their own cars in the name of "stimulating the economy" (apparently making people buy new cars right fucking now instead of later, or next year, or whenever, is sound economics), a small minority of apparently insane people are actually fixing the cars they already own, and not lining up to purchase the latest motorized toasters offered by whatever is left of the sick and dying "new car" infrastructure.
Meanwhile, the most powerful people in the world have just turned on the printing presses, given their ultimate rip-off a cute name (Q.E! Why even care what it means?) and started filling their speedboats with enough booze and hookers to last them a while in exile, while the rest of the world watches like the sheep they know we are.

Another lucky Ford owner unloading cash for precious metal

"Spend it now, before we are lighting our smokes with worthless paper money." warned the President, lighting another spliff with a crisp twenty, "These Fords cost $375.00 new. Now they cost $100000.00 to build. Let CWMC help you get rid of your money. It's either me or them..."
Updates to be posted as they are declassified. Read & burn, etc.

1080 Single-Handedly Depletes Nations Strategic Oil Reserve in Bid to win CWMC Fuel Economy Championship

Lean Burn Technologies, South Cooking Lake, Ab: All Agents be aware: if you are trying for the CWMC Fuel Economy Championship, you are going to have your work cut out for you. Agent 1080 has again shovelled a considerable chunk of overdraft under the hood of his Agency Cruiser Plymouth, and is confident that few Agents are going to have a chance to dethrone him as the Undisputed Canadian Champion Fossil-Fuel Consumer. 

  CNN reported yesterday that, after political instability in Libya, 1080's Plymouth is probably the single most reliable indicator of an impending world-wide oil shortage and accompanying price spike. Last summer, with 1080's attention focused elsewhere, the world was enjoying a pretty easy time of it, with oil prices hovering in the realistic $70- $80 / barrel range. Last week, however, 1080 finished reassembling his pet demon, and began ordering supertankers diverted to Lean Burn Technologies to begin feeding the beast a steady diet of high-octane premium. Despite worldwide protests and repeated summits with various CEO's of all the worlds biggest producers, 1080 remained stoic, and pressed on with testing and tuning the 800 hp supercharged monstrosity.

The scene at LBT on Saturday

  "It's pretty well behaved, con- sidering..." said 1080 at a press conference yesterday, when asked if he really intended to use the weapon in anger on public streets. "What else am I going to drive? A fuckin' Prius? If it won't pull the front wheels off the ground, I'm not interested."
 A quick inspection reveals a pair of toilet-bowl sized carbs atop a BDS 8-71 supercharger, feeding a 440 Chrysler with some spendy aluminum cylinder heads screwed on to assist in ridding the world of as much gasoline as possible in the shortest possible time. A 5500 rpm stall converter makes sure that 1080s cruiser doesn't even move until space-shuttle amounts of fuel are being consumed by the angriest, most intimidating car in town.
 The President went for a short spin with 1080 at the controls of the old Plymouth, and returned looking more than a little pale and shaken, only able to mumble "Full Presidential approval...full Presidential approval..." over and over until he was helped away for a short rest and some medicinal bong rips.
  Further details will be released as soon as they are declassified, pending final dyno tuning and assuming there is still enough fuel in the country for another test drive.
  

Operation D.I.S.C.O. Leaves President Hungry for Italian

Edmonton, Ab, Possibly the North side: Booking an appointment with the President before noon takes a considerable amount of pull, and Agent 747 is on that short list. What could possibly be important enough to attempt to rouse ol' Mr. Party before Happy Hour starts?
 Operation Distressed Italian Sports Car Overload, is all.

747 Contemplates bent Lambo project

Agent 747 started the day with a quick stop to kick the tires (not too hard lest they fall off) on a very hockey-player-looking Lamborghini Gallardo, yours for a much-reduced price if you have the time and inclination to try to put a 500 hp, 4 wheel drive, aluminum & carbon fibre write-off back together. In a rare and inexplicable moment of sanity, both Agent 747 and the Prez passed on the opportunity and decided to get some lunch at the Italian Bakery instead.

Long hood good for storing boxes and shit

  Shortly post-lunch, Agent 747 loaded the Prez into his Agency Subaru and proceeded to an unknown location deep in the foreign-car district of downtown. Camouflaged in the local pawn-shop & porno ambience, and silent but for the fluttering flags on the lease-back fleet trash ageing on the local mud-lots, a small brick building so utterly without charm as to be virtually invisible awaited the arrival of CWMC Agents. 
   Inside, 747 introduced the President to his own top-secret Italian Connection, the elusive "Mr. K". They then spent a few minutes checking out some of the most Fully Presidentially Approved car stash in the city. The President had barely walked in the door when he was rendered mute by Italian Car Envy: a scruffy Alfa Romeo Montreal, just sitting there on the floor, as if to say "What? You don't have one?"

  It only got worse for the President when he had to be helped back up off the floor after laying his bloodshot eyes on the second Lambo of the day; this time an Espada. All Agents know, of course, that the Montreal and the Espada are two of the Prez' favourite cars, and having never actually having seen one of either one of them before, he was having trouble believing there weren't some residual (or not so residual) drug effects at work here. The sight of a rare Lancia Delta Integrale in the corner didn't help with the sense of unreality, either, but everything probably would have been fine if the President hadn't happened to see a pair of headlights poking out of a pile of boxes under some stairs.
 A slightly closer inspection revealed, of course, a Ferrari 330 GT. The President probably lost con- sciousness just before noticing the original paint, or the Borranis, or the amazingly preserved interior, but nevertheless managed to record the moment of discovery with a couple of shitty shaky-hand snapshots, seen here.
  Agent 747 delivered the semi-coherent President back to the underground storage bunker later that evening, where he is recovering slowly. He has drawn plans for his own future Italian Car Shrine, but so far a boozy ground-breaking ceremony has been the extent of the actual work.
 All agents are being called in to HQ to assist, if only by hanging around and getting slightly hammered up and bullshitting each other.