The Lansdale Car Show... A Showcase of Cars and Bizarre Under the Stars

Ah... Lansdale. Sniff in the air, and you'll smell diesel, pork products and glory. I love this small town, it's evident. I grew up here, and while I mock the vast majority of the town's eccentricities, I also participate in most events that I can. Saturday, June 16^th was no exception.

The day of the Lansdale Car Show Under the Lights, a white trash festival featuring classic cars, muscle shirts, and mullets, dawned sunny and bright. I was working all day at a bank opening event, but by 6:30 p.m. my best friend Heather and I had arrived at Brad and Mitch's place. I kicked off a barbeque, and we all drank copious amounts of Coors Light and SoCo and lime shots... cause that's clearly how we roll. After food, booze, a rousing game of Frisbee with Dan, and leaving the guys' place in a state of disarray, it was off to the show, conveniently located just a few blocks away. As we strolled, open containers in hand, we gladly witnessed the sights and sounds of Lansdale, including bitch slaps, souped up engines, a few like-minded kids chugging beers also, and other suburban ghetto wonders.

After a few blocks of strolling, eating Dan's funnel cake, peeing in pizza place, and a catfight between Heather and Ariel, Heath and I somehow found ourselves walking, sans the guys, back to Brad and Mitch's house. A small problem arose when we realized the house was locked. We certainly were not going to walk back into that Q-Mart inspired hoedown, so I found myself teetering precariously on a broken rocking chair and jimmying the front window open. As I crawled in, my shapely ass region getting caught at one point, I wondered if this was what life would always be like. With a satisfied nod, I took my predicament in stride, and weaseled in the window.