Hey everybody! Meet Hangover Truck! He’s a 1956 Saviem 4164 and has a face like a spider and seems to effectively represent the sort of truck that it feels like just ran over me. Because I have a hangover. I don’t even drink all that much anymore, which I guess is why a Negroni and something that I’m pretty sure was 73% antifreeze knocked me on my ass so hard. So now I’m trying to write this but mostly I’m complaining.
Uggg, I just threw up a bunch of reddish fluid. It was kinda sweet, reinforcing my antifreeze theory. Get it together, Jj! David’s gonna be on my ass if this doesn’t meet our “Double E” standard of entertaining and educational, so, um, Saviem was a French truck company and their name is an acronym for Société Anonyme de Véhicules Industriels et d’Équipements Mécaniques which, to English-reading eyes seems like a secret society of anonymous people who build construction equipment.
Here’s a cute die-cast model of a Saviem flatbed truck carrying a Renault 16:
There, now we all know something about Saviem. Oh and they were around from 1955 to 1978. Two things. That covers one ‘e’ and look, everyone just pretend this was entertaining. I’m gonna go lay on the carpet in a fetal ball and shake like how my cars idle.
“On a scale of 1-10, how bad is your hangover?”
“Saviem”
“Get this man a breakfast burrito and some Gatorade, stat! WE NEED LIQUIDS, PEOPLE!!!”
It has been said many times, and many ways, you only suffer a hangover once you quit drinking.
Drunk since 1980 woohoo.
“I’m scared if I stop [drinking] all at once the cumulative hangover will literally kill me.”
-Sterling Archer
Chronic inebriation does explain much about the drivel you crap out.
talking of hangover…
Did you know the an Estafette engine hood ( for the ignoring mass, it’s a thing that can be lifted from either the driver or the front passenger seat by turning a large knob 90 degrees ) is the best place to put your feet ( as either a driver or the front passenger, typically without shoes, barefoot being best ) when you have cold feet.
Been there, done that, I even have an in depth explanation with pictures ( sadly not of the feet on the hood ) both as a driver and a passenger. ( note that as a driver it was a lot of work as I was driving mountain on mountain roads, it was a bit like dancing between the pedals and the hood with your feet )
Jason, hope you’re feeling better now, but if you need a little something, liquid IV can be a lifesaver. Or so I’ve heard from a friend who might have gotten drunk.
I got so excited thinking there might be a 411 on that flatbed. SO EXCITED! But drat, it wasn’t.
Alcohol + sugar = toxic waste.
One thing French and Italian trucks from the era nailed is the wheels. Painted with big bolts and fairly knobbly tyres, never filling the arch, they just look good.
And it is funny how they just took their full legal name, (Société Anonyme = Private Limited Company), and used its initials for the badge…
This is your fault, if you do it enough, NOT being hungover will be the hangover, that’s my MO.
Ah, yes, the Saviem 4164.
(In David Letterman Academy Awards voice:)
“Saviem 4164, Citroën Belphégor. Citroën Belphégor, Saviem 4164.”
http://www.citroenet.org.uk/utilities/belphegor/images/01.jpg
Egad, there must be something grieviously wrong with the Changli if it’s shaking like that at idle.
One plus: your current prone position does afford a better view of bumper mounted turn signals.
I had to google it and found a wonderful site with old brochures. So thanks, and get well soon JT 🙂
Looks a lot like the Renault Goelette heavy van from the same time, but Saviem and Renault were pretty close in the last century. Or maybe that is just how a french not small truck looked in the 50ies:
http://www.autominded.net/brochure/renault/1954%20Renault%201400%2001.jpg
SAVIEM was basically the fusion of the Renault heavy trucks and several small brands (Latil, SOMUA…) and remained a part of the Régie Renault, so yes, “pretty close” is even an understatement. This 4164 is basically a badge-engineered Renault Fénéhant I guess.
If you drank every night like a man you wouldn’t have this problem.
Get your beer from Ireland – Guinness…. and get your whisky from Scotland – and it better not be that blended shit. Glenfiddich 15 does the job well.
Yeah, don’t bitch about breaking down if you haven’t bothered to do your maintenance.
The red stuff in the Negroni, and in your vomit, is Campari, which I’m pretty sure is Italian for “antifreeze”. Yeah, it’s nasty stuff, indeed. Hope you’re feeling better soon, Jason!
Yup. Campari is *fucking horrible*. I mean, there are arguably worse Italian drinks (yes, I’m looking at YOU, Fernet Branca*), but it’s pretty bad.
*Also Strega. No. Just… no.
Grappa just joined the conversation at bar…
Ooh, fightin’ words, for sure!
There are few things on this earth better than a Campari and Soda over ice on a hot summer’s day. Simple! Refreshing! Delicious! Classic!
The problem is that you should never allow yourself to get drunk on anything that has Campari in it. A bit tipsy is fine, sure, but never risk more than that. I also learned that lesson the hard way.
The problem is that you should never allow yourself to get drunk. But a couple of negronis is not a bad way to get to tipsy!
I can get entirely drunk on quality tequila and suffer only minor after-effects.
Everyone has their own sensitivities. Anything nearly as drunk on Campari results in severe hangovers. Whiskey and bourbon of any sort is also dangerous to me.
Over-eat a giant meal that makes you regret every decision in your life. Then, drink some fernet. It will change your life for the better. The taste may not be your thing but damn does it settle an uncomfortably full stomach.
Wait, what? Fernet Branca is actually delicious.
I have never seen a truck that was so physically relatable.
This week has been the longest month I’ve had at this job so far, and yesterday the gates of Hell itself opened up with a tunnel going directly to the parts department apparently. A service advisor with one lone kernel of candy corn for a brain, angry customers that can’t read the giant sign above the door that says “PARTS,” Dealertrack being the worst program designed by man, GM offering 6,000 different mud flaps that may or may not actually fit because even with the VIN they can’t tell me jack on the accessories site, and more all in the last 45 minutes while my co-worker is trying to place the daily order. Suffice it to say, I had worked up a mighty thirst, and by the Blessed Mother of Acceleration I quenched it.
So this morning, I have never seen a truck that was so physically relatable.
I’ve been surprised at how bad the accessory part of GM’s parts system is. I’ve tried ordering the safety triangles and first aid kit that are supposed to fit into the little compartments on the hatch of the TourX twice through the dealer and once on my own. Both times at the dealer, I was given things that don’t fit, despite being assured the second time that they absolutely would, based on the VIN search. When buying online, they luckily had images and I could see they were trying to give me the same crap that doesn’t fit.
It is honestly completely terrible, which is sorta weird, because I personally think that most of the other GM interfaces work reasonably well
Another victim of a twisted Italian party drink based on a martini chassis. A fashionable stomach turner for sure. Yuck!
PRAY…FOR…MOJO.
Cabover, hangover. Tomato, Tomahto.
I don’t have a lot of experience with inebriation but I think this might help:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AY1sBXjl0s8
Given most folks’ Patton tolerance, this will make it far, far worse.
Do you see now what low-mounted rear turn signals can do to a man? It can drive one to seek the liquid comfort of a cocktail of dubious origin! Specifically Jason, who is especially affected by poor signal design. Maybe only Jason. But the point stands!
Poor signal strength too.
Double E with a side of TMI on your newly externalized stomach contents. Thanks for that, Jason.
Jason, I say hurl. If you blow chunks and flyingstitch comes back, he’s yours. But if you spew and he bolts, then it was never meant to be.
Let him go, flyingstitch is nobody’s friend. If flyingstitch were an ice cream flavor, he’d be pralines and dick.
Apologies to flyingstitch, if they don’t get the reference.
While you lay on the carpet in a fetal ball and shake like how your cars idle, don’t forget to foam at the mouth and vocalize your complaints that “Satan itches!”