One ol' geezer (I knew him but he didn't remember me) was giving me chapter & verse, in the barbershop, about being part of the country's and auto industry's downfall because I drove an Acura (jeeze aren't they built in the USA?). I didn't bother explaining that I had a Corvette too. I figured he'd be pissed at anything that wasn't made in Osh-a-waa.
I should have asked him where his effin' television was made. Or his pacemaker.
Thank gawd he didn't have much hair.