My life, it all makes sense now.

As a 16-year-old Girl #1, my first car was a Renault. It was a cute little car. I named her Dorothy due to her blue hue and my youthful & unhealthy obsession with the Wizard of Oz . It was a great first car because the horn was located on the blinker which helped calm my roadrage, as tooting a horn that sounded like the road-runner did very little to get anyone's attention. Unfortunately, I destroyed her shortly after gaining possession by not tending to her needs ("What is this oil change thing all about?"). I had many cars after that (a silver Volvo named Stevie, a white Buick Century named Bertha...), but Dorothy always had a special place in my heart, and until now, I really wasn't sure why. After watching this car commercial for Renault, I understand. Renault's seem to have an insane gay man trapped inside of their car-souls, just as I have an insane gay man trapped inside of my lady-soul. It's the only explanation that makes any sense, for either of us. Also, I want a renault again.

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