The Grandest Marquis

Posted by AndyFan: The subject of the Grand Marquis came up a while back in the Barbara Would Be Proud post and people (you know who you are people) thought it was not covered in enough detail. The fact is that it was payed little attention on purpose. Andy’s obsession with the Grand Marquis as transportation vehicle is rooted in some early childhood trauma that I am not at liberty to talk about. I have a gentleman’s agreement with him that I won’t talk about the things he says I can not talk about. Since neither of us are gentleman, I refrain because he has as much dirt on me as I have on him, so there you have it. Don’t ask me about this subject again.

I will, however, go so far as to describe his general love for this finest of fine automobilé. Andy has owned more Grand Marquis’ than any other pre-octogenarian in the North Eastern corridor of the Western Hemisphere, where ever that is. Each one has a been a progressive step up from the previous model owned. However there are a few issues with his latest moroon vehicle. For one, this car was not named. Because it was not named it has behaved like a lost and unclaimed child. It does not fully know who it’s owner is. It’s like calling your new dog “dog” for the first few years and then all of a sudden asking Fido to sit. He is just going to piss all over your rug. He is confused. Each of Andy’s previous boats where christened with a proper name. Due to copyright infringements I am not able to broadcast these names, but they were proper. And they were Grand. As you would expect they would be. What other kind of name would Andy give his car than a Grand name?

Getting back to the Barbara Would Be Proud post (that is where this all started people), if you wrapped your head around the idea of Andy’s organizational skills at that moment, you are now preparred to move to the next level of Andydom—his car. If you are a true Andy fan, you are aware of the the importance of Andy’s car. Combined with his domicile, Andydom is not unlike Dante’s Infreno but instead of all the levels of hell it is just subsequent levels of clutter. Andy calls them props, Barbara knows better. For lack of a better explanation his home is just a space. A space to be used for his bidding at whatever time of day, for whatever Andy chooses. He chooses everything most days, which is why it unfolds many times over on said days. And he can leave home at any time of day, for as long as is needed to cause Andything out and about. But his car, that is an entirely different subject. His car is his command post. The epicenter of his being. The lost location of Jimmy Hoffa, the keeper of the Holy Grail, the holder of the last M&M from the red and green holiday pack. You lost something, look in Andy’s car. It doesn’t matter if you have never been within 500 miles of his car, call Andy and ask him to check the crack in the back seat. Sometimes he even loses his car keys in his car, which is ironic, I think. We are still debating irony at Whatever you do if you are taken for a ride, do not touch the yellow ring in the glove compartment, you will never get back. He lost the green one.

All told, Andy has traveled more than 210,000 miles via Grand Marquis. There is an old adage that states, home is where you hang your hat. While Andy wears and has many hats (and you are no doubt bound to find at least one near the door of any space he has arranged boarding for a spell) for Andy, home just very well may be where you park your car.

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