The Chevy Impala is the people’s car in Los Angeles. It represents everything from the main ride in Boyz in the Hood to the main ride for the LAPD. Now if that isn’t worlds apart, what is?
So, naturally, we see all kinds of Impalas in Tinseltown.
From the kinda Douchey: (please tell me green paint was on sale)
To downright dope: (now that’s gettin’ a little work done)
Sometimes our Impalas are kinda tragic, like this Douchebag: (big wheels on a late model Impala are like stilettos on a fat girl– her legs aren’t getting any skinnier and you end up feeling sorry for the stilettos)
But then, sometimes, just sometimes, you spot an Impala that is so triumphant that it makes you proud to be an American, proud to be an Angelino, hell, proud to just be on the same planet as this kind of action:
As if it couldn’t get any better, I spotted this Dude at the Grove. The Grove is, if you don’t know LA, pretty much the whitest place in town (besides maybe Palisades Village). It’s a squeaky clean, outdoor mall where rich families arrive in their Volvo station wagons to partake in an exciting afternoon at the American Girl Doll store. So there I am, with my 2.3 children, getting ready to sell my soul (and my 401k) to Mattel and some homie rolls up in this?
It’s just beautiful. Thank you, Mr. Impala, for making my day of American Girl misery into something really truly spectacular. You are quite a Dude.