It’s been over a year now, since my trusted and loyal car was rear-ended by an absent minded driver. I miss it still. I grew up in that car. It was my first car, handed down to me from my father who was the original owner. I still remember the day he bought it at the dealership. I kept pushing him to get the bright red coupe. Or at least a car with a spoiler. Dad, the ever practical accountant bought the gold four-door sedan. Years later, I can’t imagine having driven anything else.

It was the car of my college days. My young adulthood. It was the car the took me to and from school. The car that traveled distances with me, loaded up with all my prized belongings, my clothes packed into the shells of my drumset.

It was the car of many adventures. It was the car of many dates, as I strived to woo and impress young ladies with my ability to drive a car with manual transmission. It was the car of heartache, and was a loyal confidant through long and lonely drives home. When I lost my college apartment and needed a home, I slept it my car. My car never let me down. My car always stood by me.

Everything I ever learned about cars I learned from fixing and repairing my golden chariot. As the car aged, it began to show signs of wear. The ceiling sagged horribly until the headliner became shredded entirely. A side-view mirror became cracked and damaged and remained fastened to the side of the car only with the aid of copious amounts of Shoe Goo. A window was smashed and replaced with a piece of cardboard. The belt tensioner wore out and the car made a horrendous screeching noise every time the car started or the air conditioner was turned on. This was my car. And then I took matters into my own hands and decided to fix it.

Money was tight, so I researched and purchased parts that could replace ailing pieces. I began to fix the car myself. I replaced a side mirror. A friend helped me jack up the car and replace the tensioner. I took apart the the back door and replaced a missing window. I measured and cut fabric and reconstructed the entire interior headliner. I bought seat covers to hide the threadbare seat cushions.

And an amazing thing happened. Not only was the car beginning to look like new again, but I found myself loving it more than ever. The car had taught me to care for it. It taught me to be self reliant. It taught me to fix things myself and to be a man. As I replaced my brake pads I proudly smiled to myself. I was never going to replace this car. What would be the point? I could continue to fix it forever! It had already lasted almost two decades. Nothing could stop me from driving it for several decades more!

And then, suddenly it ended. During my first week of a new job the car was rear-ended to the point of collapse. I could sense there might be no coming back from this. My beautiful car had completed its last heroic act, by protecting me.

The insurance company gave me over twice what the car was listed to be worth. I could only assume it was because all the repairs I had done made it look like new. Even at the end, my car was still teaching me the value of hard work. An astute observer commented that it was interesting how the car lasted literally until the day that a new job secured a healthy and steady income for me thus allowing for the purchase of a new vehicle. I suppose it is interesting. Perhaps my car having finally gotten me to this point in life, knew its job was finally done.

Saying goodbye was more difficult and emotional than you might expect. I imagine I must have looked rather foolish speaking to my car with tears in my eyes and thanking it for all our adventures. For its service. For being there. For listening to my hopes, my dreams, my frustrations, and my prayers. And always for keeping me safe.

Thank you Epoch, for everything you gave to me. You were the best car. I’m so very glad you shared this road with me.

The Epoch
1996 Saturn SL1
29 mpg city, 40 mpg highway
158,331 miles
$13,130.00 new
9/13/95 – 8/28/14
6,925 days (almost 19 years)
Final totals: $1.896 per day
$0.0829 per mile
Great car.

The post Farewell Epoch appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

Everyone wants my money. I don’t understand it. The rent people want my money. The gas people want my money. The insurance people want my money. The phone people want my money. The tax people want my money. Crap. That reminds me I owe my accountant money… See?!?! EVERYONE wants my money. I don’t understand it.

What’s so special about MY money? Is my money special in some way that I’m not aware of? Is my money more popular than other monies? Is my money especially attractive or good looking? Is it the life of the party? I don’t get it. I think I need to tell my money to stop being so impressive and sociable. You hear that money?! You’re grounded! No more going out with friends for a WEEK! I mean…a MONTH! Yeah! Don’t talk back to me! You clearly need to put more effort into your studies! You’re failing economics! As long as you live under MY roof you’ll live by MY rules! Now get upstairs and don’t come out until you’re ready to start pulling your weight around here.

Pssh. Young monies. They don’t know what’s good for them.

The post Stop Sending Me Bills appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

Once upon a time, as a young teenage lad, I had a driving lesson from a strange man who reminded me of John Travolta. Or fat Elvis. Or both. I was somewhat weirded out by this odd man with his flashy gold chains. Even worse, he made driving a somewhat painful and awkward experience. So I did what any young high school student would do: I wrote about him in the school newspaper.

And so, if you desire to relive teenage history with me, that particular column is in fact published somewhere on this website. You may read it by clicking HERE.

Be gentle with my simple teenage prose. My adolescent writing skills had only come so far.

The post Driving Lesson appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

There are a few rules that everyone should know about carpooling. Since this can sometimes be a contentious debate among carpoolers, I have taken the liberty of clarifying these rules for you, readers and followers of the internet.These rules will hereby be forever known as laws and must be obeyed and followed from this moment on, as I am the internet, and thus, the final word on every issue of debate. The internet has spoken.

Rule 1:

“Shotgun” (or calling the front passenger seat) may only be done prior to the drive, when outside and when the car is within sight. No other times are acceptable. If you lose sight of the car, then your calling of shotgun no longer is valid. Your shotgun reaches its completion when the drive is finished, or when parties step out of the car, at which point shotgun may be called by any party. Don’t argue with me. I am the internet.

Rule 2:

The driver has final control and veto power of the music and/or radio station. His car, his tunes. That being said, anyone who doesn’t allow passenger’s the right to select some music (when not in conflict with baseball broadcasts), is kind of a jerk. Regardless, the rules are clear.

Rule 3:

If it’s not your car, you owe gas money. Gas is over 4 bucks a gallon here in California. If you’re going on a road trip and your friend is driving his car, you’re chipping in for gas. And if you’re not, you’re getting left behind in one of those creepy middle-of-nowhere gas stations with a gas station attendee who never went to high school named Dwyane. Don’t resign to a life of having to ask Dwayne for a key every time you need to urinate – Chip in for gas.

Rule 4:

Girls get the front seat. Don’t be a tool. Open the door and give the girl the front seat. Trust me on this. You’ll thank me later.

Rule 5:

You are not allowed to laugh at your friend’s car. Even if his old ’96 Saturn is missing a window, or if the mirror is held on by Shoe-Goo, or if the sunroof leaks water, or if the passenger side visor keeps falling off, or if his lovable niece put holes in his roof and now the interior ceiling is held together by massive quantities of duct tape, or if the fan belt screeches excruciatingly loud and wakes the entire neighborhood whenever the car is started on really hot or really cold days– even if (and I’m speaking totally hypothetically here) ALL of these things are true, you are not allowed to laugh at your friend’s car. That’s just not cool man. Not cool.

Remember, I am the great and all-powerful internet, and these rules are law. They are for your own good. Now go forth, and carpool.

You’re welcome.

The post Carpool Rules appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

I’m going to write more in this space. I promised that I would. And I keep my promises. Let’s see. Where to begin. What’s today’s theme? Driving. Charming. Traffic court.

I got nothing.

Actually I probably got nothing because I’m writing this on my lunch break and I am SO FREAKING HUNGRY. I can’t stop thinking about the little burger shop down the street that sells those giant root beer milkshakes. Mmmmm….milkshakes…

Dah. Ok. Hold it together Taylor. Try not to think about food. Think un-food-like thoughts.

Fire hydrants.

Hydro-atomic gas.

Atomic weight vs. atomic mass.

Mass.

E=MC2

Einstein.

Physics.

Isaac Newton.

Fig Newtons…

AHH! DANG-IT!! I’m going to go get lunch.

The post So Charming appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

I finished this comic strip one minute before my self-imposed deadline of 12:29am. But I have a good defense. I’ve been working. A lot. Lots of working. So much working. Look at me go, being all responsible and working so very much and so very hard. And even though I’m so very tired, I stayed up extra late to finish this comic strip. Because that’s the kind of guy I am. So there ya go.

I’ll write something better next week. Promise.

The post What’s Your Defense? appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

Ok. First thing’s first. Before I write my entry this week all of you need to head on over to facebook-land and “like” our newly re-branded page. Even if you were already a fan before, chances are you were removed from the page during the re-branding, so you need to click that “like” button again if you want to help the cause and if you want all the weekly updates in your feed.

Here. I’ll make it SUPER easy for you:

^There.^ Click the “like” button. That’s it. So easy. Click it. Click it good.

Now, I will commence with this week’s completely unrelated ranting, which I like to call, “A Hypothetical But Factually Based Conversation With Facebook Regarding My Fan Page.”

Matt: Hey Facebook, thanks for making an option for me to create a “page” for my cartoons! It’s been really useful for sharing my work with others, and was especially helpful when my website crashed back in 2008.

Matt: Hey, so I was wondering… I’ve rebuilt my website, and I’ve changed the name of my cartoons as well as the domain name. I’d like to change it on the Facebook page as well.

Matt: What? Why not?

Matt: Yeah, but I’m not changing it to anything offensive.

Matt: You could look.

Matt: Ok…but…wouldn’t it be worse if I was actually POSTING offensive material? All I’m asking is for the right to change the name of MY page to reflect the change in MY brand. You don’t own my brand.

Matt: This is silly. C’mon. Please?

Matt: Why would I do that? I’d lose readers, all the comments and history, annoy fans, and I’d spend hours rebuilding the new one. That would hurt my brand.

Matt: I DO own the thing.

Matt: Ok. Now you’re making me mad. I’m going to spend the next 2 years sending you daily negative feedback regarding this single issue.

2 Years later…

Matt: For reals? Awesome! Thank you so much!

Matt: Um…but I have lots more than that.

Matt: That doesn’t seem fair. If I had less than 100 I could just start over anyway. Why punish those of us who have used your pages the longest?

Matt: You do realize I’m just going to keep sending you emails about this issue…

1 year later…

Matt: Ah-ha! Finally! I knew if I waited long enough you’d finally be logical about this!

Matt: Sweet! Finally a victory for the little guy! Here’s your form.

Matt: Great!

Matt: Wait, what?? Why??

Matt: Um…did you even LOOK at my page?? The name is my old domain name. It isn’t even active anymore. If you typed the address it would immediately take you to my new one. It’s only misleading if we DON’T change it.

Matt: You know what? Screw you. And screw Rufus. I’m going to delete two thirds of my own fan base from my own page and change the name myself you heartless, senseless bastards.

Matt: You have effectively hurt my brand name. Thanks a lot.

Matt: You’re a real jerk Facebook.

The post License, Registration, & Page Name appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

Yes, Michael drives a Datsun 280X. And yes, I’m totally jealous.

In other news, there was a bug in the “Sell-Out Moment Infomercial” which is now fixed. You may watch it here. And be sure to look for the hidden bonus at the end!

For those who are new to the site, the comic strips are being updated every Wednesday (at 12:29am Pacific Time). In addition to that, be sure to check out the animated cartoons, the movies, and the FAQ section!

The post No Maintenance appeared first on Raccoon Toons.

This one is for all my economist friends. I really debated about the last panel. I mean really, how many of us actually know what a “classical dichotomy” is? Heck, even when I read the wikipedia entry for classical dichotomy, I’m still not sure what it is. But I decided to go with it anyway. It sounds funny.

If you haven’t already watched it, you should head over to the “Toons” section and watch the new animated cartoon starring Michael as “Michelo the Bandit!” Be sure to look for the secret ending by clicking around at the end.

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