Heh. So I just remembered something funny from a couple of days ago.
I was driving over to my folks house, down this road that gradually turns into an expressway, when I saw something keen.
An opaque navy blue GMC van of late 1970's vintage, the short funny kind (as opposed to the creepy candy-in-the-van type), with the little black teardrop bubble windows farther back. This throwback was piloted by an nominally middle aged surfer-looking fellow. He was wearing a dun-coloured tank top, sported Top Gun shades and a lovely tan, and was coiffed with the grandest sort of hair metal 'do, in a lovely shade of natural orange-blonde. He lazily lounged behind the wheel, window down, cigarette lit.
As he accelerated past me into the express lanes, I could hear the strains of AC/DC's 'Problem Child' blaring away.
While the thought of shouting out "Duuuuuuude! Which way to the EIGHTIES?~" briefly flitted through my head, I was too enthralled by the magnificent vision of this unabashed refugee from the past to do more than watch with a silent salute to the living breathing Rock n' Roll Mystery Machine.