Automotive Would You Rather: Forehead Tattoo Or Spoiled Milk Into Gasoline?

Wyr Forehead Milk

I’ve been out of town for about two weeks straight and I’m not gonna lie, I have a big stack of un-written content looming over me like a towering mountain of, um, non-written content? This is a good problem in many ways, in that it means I have interesting things to share with all of you, my favorite people I mostly never actually see. And yet, somehow, instead of getting on all that, here I am banging out another Automotive Would You Rather. Why? Well, perhaps it’s because these have been praised as being “just dumb” by at least one commenter, and I can’t let them down. Not now, not ever. So, with that in mind, let’s leap boldly into the kiddie pool filled with chili that is a genuine Autopian Automotive Would You Rather!

SCENARIO ONE:

Your shitbox leaves you stranded by the side of the road yet again, this time somehow improbably with what sure looks like a leaky belt. You can’t even figure out the physics behind it: somehow the belt seems to be leaking this gooey ichor all over the pulleys, and it’s causing the belt to slip wildly, preventing your engine from actually doing anything useful.

Some of that black, gooey fluid drips onto your forehead as you’re under the car, and the shock of the strangely warm fluid causes you to bolt upright, slamming your forehead against some part under there. The impact happened right at a place where the carmaker’s logo – in this case, the Yugo “Y” – was stamped, and the impact made a sort of logo tattoo on your forehead.

Then, amid a series of noises that sounded like an entire brewery was launched into a stampede of aluminum hippos, you look to see your Yugo repairing itself, parts sliding into place, dents loudly popping out, plastics re-materializing, wiring regrowing, and more. In moments you’re looking at a perfect, new version of your old shitbox, only now just box, because it is shitty no more.

Amazed, you wipe your hand across your forehead, wiping off your belt-juice logo tattoo, and in doing so, your car instantly reverts to the shitheap it was.

After some trial-and-error with a sharpie, you realize that if you tattoo your car’s logo on your forehead, it will remain perfect. You even bought a wrecked Alfa Romeo Brera that looked like it was crushed by Mount Rushmore, and after carefully stenciling Alfa’s snake-eating-a-dude logo on your head, it looked perfect. You did some tests and found that if the logo is obscured by a hat or bandana, it doesn’t work. It must be visible.

So, it appears you have a gift: any car you want will return to and remain in perfect condition, as long as you have its logo tattooed or at least drawn and visible on your forehead.

 

SCENARIO TWO:

Okay, I know I’ve been accused of making these too scatological (I didn’t go to school to earn a Masters of Scatology for nothing) but this time my wife thought this one up, so you can’t blame me. But it still sort of involves bodily functions, which, I’ll remind you, is a universal human condition that transcends time and culture, so, you know, beat that.

Anyway, here’s the deal: You buy a bag of off-brand Lucky Charms and when you whip it open you find inside, surrounded by the knockoff marshmallow green emeralds, blue clovers, red rubies, or whatever the mostly mummified remains of what seems to be a leprechaun, or maybe just some other non-Irish gnome-like being in goofy clothes.

You pull him out, connect him to your car battery via his nose (positive) and toes (negative) and give him a good jolt, and boom, he’s alive! He’s coughing and smells just hideous, but he’s quite happy to be alive and freed from the knockoff cereal bag, and in broken English thanks you profusely.

He then says he wishes to give you a gift, and with that leaps upon your face and slides a slimy tongue into your nostril. You panic, but then freeze, your body briefly but violently quivering, then calming. The leprachaun-ish being lets go and drops to the ground.

He tells you that he assessed you, and felt your love for cars. Therefore, he gave you a related gift: if you chug spoiled milk, you will be able to urinate ten times as much in the form of gasoline. So, chug a half gallon of spoiled milk, you can pee five gallons of top-notch, premium gas into your tank. A whole gallon of spoiled milk becomes ten gallons! Never pay for gas again! Go on any road trips you want! You just need to choke down some spoiled milk, occasionally! You can open your own gas station and make bank!

 

So, what’s it gonna be? The forehead tattoo that gets you a perfect car, or free gas whenever you want – well, whenever you get access to spoiled milk! So, choose wisely:

Quiz Maker

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59 Responses

  1. Forehead one, is this a concours type restoration? Or do modifications I have made stick with it?
    If I’ve rebuilt the engine and tweaked it, will it regrow metal where I’ve ported heads?

    Regardless, the forehead one. I’d be able to just order a bunch of stamps of whatever car I wanted, slap it on my head, and it would be good.

  2. I know a lot of people are thinking of stamps, but I would go ahead and find a few junked specimens I want within a single brand and get the tattoo. I do not want to risk wiping it off and having the car fall apart mid-drive. Could perhaps do a couple tattoos if I REALLY want more than one brand.

    1. remembers those non permanent tattoos from chewing gum packages back in the day?

      You can have these things printed online for small money

      they can take sweat and rubbing, so no problem while driving and when you want to get rid of them, take a cloth piece, some water and rub for 1-2 minutes

      1. Expired milk has not necessarily spoiled, so I would not count it. I would suspect milk that hasn’t curdled, but is just a bit soured would count. Having consumed milk that is just a little off, I can safely say that I would not do well if spoiled milk was beyond that. If it has to get to a chunky stage, there is no possible way I would be willing to make that trade.

  3. Chugging any spoiled milk, it’s unlikely to stay in my body long enough to transmogrify to gasoline. Plus, I drive electric so no point subjecting myself to that.

    My son drives a 12 year old Kia – is the forehead image transferable? If not, then I suppose I’ll never have any battery degradation concerns in that EV.

  4. Forehead tattoo. I mean think about it, you could get the most sketch of expensive to fix/maintain cars and not have to worry about it at all. And best of all, if you are worried about parking it somewhere, just put on a hat and you won’t have to be concerned with theft.

  5. Without a doubt I’d take the “tattoo”, and carry with me buttons and trim pieces of cars I could never hope to afford, accompanied by a stamp of the corresponding manufacturer’s logo. Hell, I already have the hood badge from my Grandfather’s 1964 Mercedes. Then, I’d just place the badge on the tarmac and stamp my forehead when I need to drive. Likewise, upon arrival, I’d wipe off the stamp, pick up the badge and put it in my pocket, no need to park. Now I need the radio volume adjustment knob of a Carrera GT, the throttle plate of a Kenmeri GT-R, the hazard light switch of an E49 M5, and I’m set. I can go to the U-pull and change up my variety of cars any time.

  6. Depends on what the magic entails. I mean, this sounds like an amazing way to get free parts for whatever you’re working on. Forehead stamp, harvest your parts, and then wipe. Slowly build your car up and sell the extras

  7. If anyone here is thinking that pissing gasoline would be far more convenient for a man then you are weird.

    Both genders would require a custom receptacle for transferring the “Marshmallow Mateys” fuel to the vehicle. If you disagree, please don’t pick that option.

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