L is a wealthy, wealthy man, living above Wilshire in Beverly Hills. L doesn’t need anything too flashy – and he never even bothered to change the license plate frame that came from the dealer (of course, it does contain the terms “Rolls-Royce” and “Beverly Hills” incidently).
But, hey, L can splurge a little once in a while, so he decided it was just plain OK to indulge his basic transportation with a little personalization. And thus, LS RR was born.
No big deal - just a little note is all
Man, the heights I went to to get this pic! Actually, I have no idea why I seem to be flying over this car. But the good news is that, on the off-chance that I didn’t know what model of car this was, I had some nice, four inch high letters to tell me!
It’s true, the MINI is a car that doesn’t really stick out from the crowd, much like a Smart Car. So without some way to draw extra attention to it, most of us would just assume it’s a Ford Taurus or something. Not a problem with TRS MINI. TR was good enough to give it that extra oomph.
Got it? It's a MINI!
As I write up these witty, pithy statements about the B4B plates I encounter, I’m struck by something new: the prevalence of license plate frames. Not just ones that say things like “Skiers do it in the powder,” or “my kid beat up your honor student,” but just simple, *classy* ones the hit you over the head, yet again, with the brand of car you’re looking at.
This is helping me to understand the psychopathology of these immodest show-offs. They’re truly doing all they can to make it clear just how much they spent on their car. That’s the prime motivation here. And, like a good advertisement, they understand that repetition is the key.
So, yesterday, I started a new category on the blog called LameFrame. If you’re looking for the trifecta of regular car branding, license plate branding, and license plate frame branding, look no further!
You’re awesome. You drive a Beemer. Celebrate! Tell the world! Put it on a plate! Not the world, that is, but your awesomeness!
A beautiful day on the freeways of Southern California, with light traffic ahead, and what shows up? DIVA does!
How many ways can I say "BMW"?
Thanks for the great photo op. Now I know how to spell BMW! I missed it the first time. Almost got it right the second time, but still wasn’t sure. But, ah, the third time was the charm! Thanks for making it clear!
A unique theme among the proud Benzer is drilling down to the model. It’s as if to say, “we all know what we’re talking about there. A Benz is the ONLY car. So what’s important is WHICH Benz.” Yeah. Keep drinking the Kool-aid.
Kim, to you I apologize. The picture isn’t great. It doesn’t demonstrate your shiny rims, or your limo tint – both worthy upgrades, to be sure. But, alas, I was able to capture your slam-it-down-my-throat license plate frame. Now that must have been hard to find! It’s all black and scripty! Wow wee!
I’m starting to think that maybe the problem with a Mercedes is, it doesn’t say “Mercedes” on the back. So smartees like Kim are taking matters into their own hands. And think of the brilliant company that brought the “Mercedes” license plate frame to market! All of these people are outdoing Mercedes itself!
OK, that’s enough. I’m getting ML fatigue.
Guessing . . . Mercedes - Right?
LEX4NAN
Simple and straightforward. Take the “us” off Lexus and the “cy” of Nancy, and you’re golden. Nothing hidden. Nothing witty. No hints. No mystery.
So I ask you, does that really sound like Nancy? I don’t think so. For a monster SUV like this, discovered in Vegas with Cali plates? No way. Sounds like a man dreamed up that wild plate.
I’m pretty sure this is the backstory:
Nancy’s husband, Chase, decided it was time to surprise Nancy. Maybe it was their seventh anniversary, and, well, Nan’s been great. So Chase pops over the Lexus dealer sometime in late 2007, just after checking on his soaring portfolio account. Feeling flush, and expecting a good payoff, Chase sits in a wood paneled office with nice leather seats at the Lexus car acquisition center and arranges for the biggest, shiniest, pearliest model they have to be delivered to their McMansion on anniversary morning, complete with a red bow wrapped around it.
And where else, but in that brilliant mind sitting on Chase’s shoulders, would the final touch emerge? The personalized license plate saying, “Now hear this: I picked up this beauty for my lady. And I can afford it.”
So Nancy wakes up that morning, and begins her walk down the front steps, headed toward the miniature house on the post at the street that holds their mailbox and newspaper slot (CC&Rs, of course) to get the OC Register, when she does a double take. What? Huh? That’s Gorgeous! That must have cost Chase a Fortune! She runs back in the house shrieking “Oh honey” so much that she’s reduced to tears. And she hasn’t even seen the plate yet.
After a little extra time in the bedroom – Chase knew how that part would go – they had coffee and sat in the car with its sumptuous Coach leather seating surfaces, and marveled at the walnut trim.
Chase knew he could squeeze in two rounds of golf after this feat, so he had already set up the tee times and foursomes. Nancy called her girlfriends to see who wanted to pop over to the day spa next to the Baja Fresh on PCH. She would pick them up, discuss exactly how much to get waxed considering the day’s events, and then sit and enjoy lunch with them afterwards, drowning the pain in a few glasses of Chardonnay. And after the wine, heading back to the truck, a tipsy friend noticed the plate for the first time. They all smiled. “Chase thinks of everything,” said Briana.
Fast forward a few months to when I saw the Lexistrosity on the freeway in Vegas. Chase and Nancy decided to take a trip in the new truck, and Chase suggested the Wynn – golf and gambling, all in one location. The good life. So they packed up far too much luggage and drove out of their brand new subdivision in a brand new city east of Irvine, and drove out. Chase is piloting the cream puff down the freeway, vaguely aware that everyone else expects a woman to be driving. But he’s excited, dying to see what his surgically-sculpted and enhanced wife will wear in the even-looser-than-the-OC Vegas. And, rolling into Vegas on that Friday night, I got them.
Chase, you're dreamy!
And now, many months later, I can picture the foreclosure sign on the house. Nan is living with her mother. And LEX4NAN sits in an auto auction lot underneath a freeway overpass in El Monte, awaiting better times.
BARBS J, you almost got away! Did you see me with my camera? I doubt it, but maybe you did and you realized you’d land yourself in the Hall of Lame unless you hit it hard.
A “J” huh? Just “J?” Concise and yet recondite. You’re probably a scholar. You probably thing a Jaguar isn’t distinctive enough as-is, so you wanted a little more attention paid. Roger that.
Blurry and beautiful. Hi Barb!
This plate expresses all that is beautiful in the world: art, culture, comedy, humility. Actually – make that none of that. This says:
-Vue: OK, your SUV already says that, right there on the back
-’06: Great. Nobody cares.
-MY: Oh, really? Thanks for satisfying my curiosity here.
Why waste the time?
So, you’re working to save money on the car, did you figure you’d splurge on the plate? Then you realized, “Hey, I have no creativity?” What happened here?
Rick, Rick, you are a rhymin’ fool of TXT. And, maybe a hint of a mid-life crisis? Perish the thought.
And a bit of a puzzler to, eh? Who among us outsiders would know what a C6 is? Only the Corvettescenti, that’s who.
Rick, in the words of Steve from the original 90210, “So I hear you drive a Vette?”
Rollin' Rick
OK – my first non-Benzoid here. Yes, yes, at the other end of the spectrum, we’ve still got playas. Power to the Scion!
SuperTOSHerific Batman!