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What about this baby, the Chrysler Chronos concept:
Or of course the Lotus Elize
------------------ "When You're Up to Your Ass in Alligators, Today Is the First Day of the Rest of Your Life." -- Management slogan, Ridcully-style (Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent, Discworld) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prakesh's Star Trek Site
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I saw a PT Cruiser "in the metal" at the local Chrysler dealership. It's a cute car (better looking IRL than in the pictures) and as roomy as the "Great White Whale" (a.k.a.: "Moby" -- my 1993 Chrysler Concorde).
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My "stepmom" has just bought a PT Cruiser. I think I look forward to riding it. It looks a little funny though. So retro.
That Chronos looks like the 6000 S.U.X from RoboCop! I think it looks like good V8-material, if they'd tone down the...what do you call it, that front air-intake? Grill?
------------------ -At least I can get it up without biomechanical pumps. -Try falling into a pit of lava, Moffy. Then see how horny you feel.
Chronos, the new time-travelling half-Klingon hybrid the Fat Controller acquired off the Ferengi, was proving to be very very popular with the trucks and flatcars. Cronos could contravene Starfleet time-travel protocols as he was an import, and could have all the day's freight in Huddersfield by the day before.
Needless to say, Thomas and the other engines weren't very pleased with the new arrival.
"Incoming transmission", chirped Thomas' Commlink. "Put it through", said Thomas, wondering gloomily if the Fat Controller had now purchased a cloaking device on the QT. That's all he needed.
"Hullo, Thomas!" said the flickering holographic image in front of him. It was Gordon, his old face and deflector bruised and dented from three decades of blokcade running and customs dodging. Yet beneath his cheery tone Thomas could detect an unusual note of alarm.
Thomas was built over Betazed, after all, but his official "Salvaged" status meant that no-one would ever find his long-gone registration and insurance dockets, and discover his empathic abilities.
"Something the matter, Gordon?", Thomas inquired innocently.
"Ohh, no. No. Nowt at all. Well, now you't mention it, there is summat."
Thomas' Universal Translator merrily spewed Gordon's incoherent mumblings into his CPU. He was right. There was something wrong.
Thomas nearly allowed himself a smile.
The old Avro Lancaster-Class Gordon was easily led. Most probably Harry, the fat Controller's Runabout, had gotten himself lost in a dark matter nebula again. Or Winston, the NuYoik-Class sweeper that had been converted into a massive Bussard collector, had joked that new "hydrogen-free fuel" won't work without duryttrium filters. Which Gordon hasn't got.
"My my, Gordon, you are in a bit of a tizzy. Whatever's the matter?"
TBC. Maybe.
[This message has been edited by Gaseous Anomaly (edited April 16, 2000).]
[This message has been edited by Gaseous Anomaly (edited April 17, 2000).]
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I have to support people who'll put so much effort into a parody that few people will get. Brave GA.
Although I don't remember Gordon beig from Yorkshire. IIRC, didn't most of the trains have a Liverpuddlian twang? (at least if you ignore the crappy newer episodes).
------------------ "Sometimes I wish the planet would be scoured with cleansing fire. Other times I just wish Frank would be." Sol System
Don't call me "Gassy", gurgles, or I'll tell everyone what you said about me.
I told him, didn't I?
------------------ Devil: Oh look at the time! I'm late for services. Stone: Services? Devil: A group of young teenagers that have been celebrating the Black Sabbath are planning on deep-sixing their gym teacher tonight. I'm gonna go and give them a little encouragement.
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