Alright, now I think it's fair to say
that everybody holds their first car near and dear to their heart.
And my first car was a 2004 Chevy Cavalier.
And this thing was a peach.
We're talking just under a quarter of a million miles on the odometer,
brakes that sounded like a dying animal
every time I came to a stop.
(Breaks squealing)
"What the hell was that, a goose?!"
"Who's murdering a gosling with their bare hands?!"
But I didn't care, it was my first car.
She will always be a classic to me.
You know how there's like old dudes in their sixties,
that restore classic cars that they had back in the day?
Well, that's gonna be my ass someday
but with a shitty Chevy Cavalier instead.
"Yeah, little Billy, that's a 2.2L 4-cylinder engine in her!"
"That baby can go 0 to 60 in just under 12 minutes."
Hell, I even gave my first car a name.
I named her Michelle.
Why did I name her Michelle? I don't know.
You're not my dad, I'm not gonna answer all your goddamn questions!
The car just looked like a Michelle, sounds like a good name to me!
Now, since you already read the title of this video,
you know damn well that it's not gonna end too great for old Shelly.
I mean, I did have this car for a solid 6 years.
But like a lot of dumbasses in their early twenties,
I ended up wrecking my first car.
How did I wreck it?
Well, it all began one night at my friend Cody's house.
We were all playing poker, having a good time,
but then 1 in the morning rolls around,
and I want to take my tired ass to bed.
So I pack up my poker chips and head out to go home.
Of course, Cody's punk ass had to talk shit right before I left.
"Hey, way to be a big tired wussy crybaby!"
"I hope you'll crash your car on the way home, ha-ha!"
So there I am on my way home.
I'm at this red light, struggling to keep my eyes open.
"Uh, God damn it, I just need to stay awake."
"My house is in pissing distance for Christ's sake!"
"Just a bit further."
"Yeah, your ass better wake up!"
"You're looking pretty goddamn lethargic right now!"
"Whoa, Ted Danson, what are you doing here?"
"Oh, I'm here to see if you wanted to go buy pogo sticks
from your 4th grade gym teacher."
"Uh, why the hell would I want to buy pogo sticks
from my 4th grade gym teacher?"
"Oh well, because you're sleeping right now and this is a fucking dream!"
"Time to wake up, idiot!"
"Huh?! What the hell is that all about?!"
(Car horn honks)
"Hey, asshole!"
"The middle of the road makes a shitty place to take a snooze,
don't you think?!"
So I dozed off at this red light like an idiot.
And you know, you'd think at this point I'd just pull over,
maybe take a quick nap, you know, be responsible and whatnot.
But I'm a dumb ass in my early twenties, remember?
I keep on going!
To hell with everybody's safety, including my own!
I'm a big selfish asshole!
So now I'm literally one block away from my house,
it's the home stretch.
"God damn that Ted Danson!"
"The fuck do I need pogo sticks for?"
"Psst, hey you, it's me, Ted Danson again!"
"Hey, you wanna go play Chutes and Ladders with Bob Saget?"
"God damn it, Ted!"
"Why would I want to play Chutes and Ladders with Bob Saget?!"
"Uh, because it sounds a lot better
than crashing into a parked car on the side of the road,
that's for sure!"
"Wait, what?!"
And just like that...
(Thud, glass breaks)
I crashed into a parked car on the side of the road.
(POOF!)
And when I say, "I crashed into it,"
I mean I hit the damn thing so hard,
that I pushed it into the truck, that was parked in front of it.
Now, thank God I didn't kill anybody, including myself.
All of a sudden, the owner of the car I just destroyed
comes screaming out of her house like she's on fire,
"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY CAR?!"
And I don't even know what to say to this lady.
I mean I just crumpled up her car like it's last week's homework and shit.
"Uh, ma'am, I'm so sorry, if there's anything I can do-"
"Can you unfuck up my car, can you do that?!"
"Well, no, I can't do that,
but I do have insurance, it's shitty, but I still have it."
Before you know it, the cops are on the scene of the accident.
"All right, who's the drunk idiot that made this mess?"
"Uh, I'm not drunk, I fell asleep at the wheel."
"What kind of drunk idiot falls asleep at the wheel?!"
"I smell a DWI!"
So since this cop is convinced
that I just Lindsay Lohaned my way into this lady's car,
he makes me take like 5 different sobriety tests.
And if you've never taken a sobriety test before,
well, it sucks major ass!
You gotta stay in there, all nervous as hell.
They're shining flashlights in your eyeballs.
Making you do all this random shit.
"All right, I want you to raise your left leg, touch your pinkie to your nose,
and name all four of the Golden Girls!"
"All four of the Golden Girls, what the hell?!"
"Uh... Blanche, Rose, Dorothy, uh..."
"The fucking... the... the super old one!"
I passed the test and proved my sobriety,
and I still got a ticket for failure to control.
Which I mean is fair, I fucking failed to control pretty hardcore after all.
So after destroying three vehicles and terrorizing a neighborhood,
I didn't know what else to do, so I just walked my ass home.
I call Cody as soon as I get back,
"Hey, thanks a lot for your well wishes tonight, I just crashed my car!"
"What are you, a fucking witch doctor, or what?!"
So the next day I walk back to assess the damage,
and my car is the only one that's still there at this point.
Or whatever is left of it, considering a third of it shattered on the ground.
But for the hell of it, I try to start my car anyways.
And to my surprise, it actually does.
Granted the dashboard's lit up like a goddamn Christmas Tree,
but I'll be damned, Shelly is still alive!
So there I am, driving down the street.
Half my car is dragging on the ground,
looking like the world's shittiest parade float.
I parked Shelly in front of my house,
backwards, since I'm pretty sure my car would explode,
if I attempted to pull it in the driveway.
And that's where it stays for the next 2 days.
Well, imagine my surprise, when I go outside one day,
and Shelly is nowhere to be found.
"What the... What, did somebody steal my car?"
"Who the hell steals two-thirds of a car?"
"Hey mister, the cops came and towed that pile of garbage in front of your house."
"Hey you little shit, that pile of garbage had a name!"
"Don't you dare talk bad about Michelle!"
So apparently, somebody called the police,
and apparently, you're not allowed to have a...
half-mangled vehicle parked illegally in a residential area.
What the fuck ever!
So that meant that I had to go down to the impound,
bail Shelly out of jail,
and then scrap her for a few hundred bucks.
And that was the end of Michelle The Chevy Cavalier.
So the moral of the story is:
Don't be an idiot like I was,
putting the whole goddamn neighborhood at stake.
The End.
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