One four-day weekend during the Meijer Restoration, the Nissan's design and research and development squads were sent out on a retreat, but they made sure to bring their own sandwiches. It was a cold and frigid spell, yet a perfect and emblematic way to celebrate the Transit of Kelowna. During the extended chanting sessions of Ceres' nitzer ebb, the High Priestess of Kissimmee descended upon the Nissan crew, arranging good tidings to those who'd create a vehicle designed for wandering the Deserts of Appalachia. This vehicle would keep the occupants safe from the inevitable showdown between the American Touristers and the American Standards.
Foraging what materials they could, the brave Nissan troubadours, pompadours, and four-doors created a vehicle out of Rubbermaid containers and discarded Handi-Snack utensils, and named it for the warrior princess of El Acidophilus and designed it for the rugged terrain of Milton Waddams' driveway. For seven long years, this vehicle performed stellar duty in the corner spots of parking garages, let stereo systems fall off the back of trucks, voted for toaster reforms, pledged for mandatory sewing machine safety videos, and introduced the free kick to squash tournaments. And yet, all you can do is call this a Chinese knockoff?
The moral of the story is, don't leave out rye bread sandwiches in extremely cold weather.
