Baby, you can drive my car (except you can't, because it is government property)

So the nice folks here at Grey Towers have been utterly fooled by my suspiciously capable attitude toward cars and have actually decided to let me operate government vehicles. Crazy, right? And I even told them about the time I hit the $90,000 Mercedes two hours after I had gotten my license and they weren't fazed! I didn't, however, mention my talent at bursting tires - that seemed like a discussion for a later time.

Still, yesterday I was tooling around back and forth from the mansion to the archives storage in a snazzy Jeep Patriot (and have you ever heard of a more jingoistic car? Why don't they just call it the Jeep "I love America more than you, pinko commie terrorist!"?), and I felt very powerful, and also a little like The Man. I had my uniform on, my big government SUV even had the Forest Service seal on it, and I had keys jangling at my hip that could unlock every door in the park. And a radio! It doesn't get more The Man than that.*

I kept hoping to come along some kids graffitti-ing something so I could park my truck, slowly get out, and saunter coolly over to them, all the while peering out menacingly over the rim of my aviators. And then I'd say authoritatively, "you kids know you're messing with government property, which is a felony?" Of course, I don't know if it is or isn't (I'm thinking isn't), and of course I couldn't speak authoritatively to a chipmunk, much less a human being, so this is where the fantasy starts to fall apart.

I don't think I'm actually cut out to be The Man, if only because my 1960's counter-revolutionary high school teachers would be appalled. Still, the car is pretty neat.

*Okay, so a gun would have helped the image, but no one here would be stupid enough to entrust me with fire arms.