It was another beautiful day on the desert world of Tatooine. But today, the twin suns rose in the sky above an extra special scene. Today was the day of the Annual Imperial Classics Cruise-In.
All across the galaxy, car enthusiasts gathered to show off their rides, trade tech tips, talk shop, and make new friends. On the capital world of Coruscant, rich and powerful galactic rulers showed off their Bentleys and Cadillacs. On the Outer Rim swamp world of Dagobah, Yoda’s neighbors waxed their monster trucks. On Mon Cala, the oceanic homeworld of Admiral Ackbar, squid people drove their amphibious buggies in and out of the briny sea.
The greatest of all gatherings across the entire galaxy took place on the planet Tatooine. Its desert climate was ideal for the prevention of rust and the preservation of automotive history. Thousands of gleaming classic cars filled the desert as far as the eye could see.
But there was an obvious dividing line that split the gathering in twain. On one half of the gathering were classic Fords. On the other half were classic Chevrolets. And between the two was animosity. Even the Empire and the Rebellion got along better than Tatooine’s Ford and Chevy owners.
In the very middle of the Tatooine Imperial Classic Cruise-In, a red Ford Mustang was parked across the dividing line from a blue Chevrolet El Camino. As a grotesque slug-like creature polished the Mustang’s valve covers, a helmeted man in a black cape arranged a brochure rack of promotional literature next to the El Camino. “The power of this 350 cubic inch V-8 is nothing compared to the power of the Force,” declared the brochure. “Call 1-800-SITH-LORD to learn more.” The slug creature was Jabba the Hutt. The helmet-and-cape-wearing man was Darth Vader.
“Ford sucks!” said Darth Vader. “Instead of calling it the Mustang, they should call it the Slow-stang.”
Jabba scoffed. “Whatever, helmet-head. That’s a weak burn from the owner of a weak ride.”
“Yeah?” said Darth Vader. “Let’s drag. I’ll make bantha fodder out of you!”
“No way,” said Jabba. “Drag racing is illegal and dangerous. What’s really cool is safety.”
Just then a golden humanoid droid pushing a cart walked up to Darth and Jabba. “Greetings, sirs! I am a protocol droid fluent in over six million forms of burrito preparation! May I interest you in a spicy rancor meat burrito?”
“Pass,” said Jabba, who was on a health kick. “I only eat blue-milk-and-kale smoothies.”
“I’ll take two,” said Darth Vader.
The droid prepared two burritos with his filthy, unwashed hands. “Here you go, sir!”
Darth Vader paid for the burritos and thanked the droid. He opened the mouth hatch on his helmet and consumed both burritos in less than a minute. “Gone in sixty seconds! Heh heh.”
Jabba was disgusted. “Man, you gotta work pretty hard to gross me out—”
He was interrupted by a sudden and intense gurgling sound.
Darth Vader doubled over and clutched his stomach. “Oh, God, no!!!” Fumbling for his keys, he staggered over to his car, buckled up, and gunned the engine. “The Force is strong with this one!” he exclaimed. Then he peeled out and sped over to the nearby line of portable rental toilets. Darth Vader parked illegally and locked himself inside a blue plastic stall.
Jabba had an idea. He slithered over to Darth Vader’s El Camino, looked over his shoulder for any storm troopers or security droids, and stole the car.
“Time for a quick joyride,” he said to himself. Vroooooom, soon he was blasting across the desert at a hundred miles per hour.
“Huh,” said Jabba. “This car is actually kind of cool.”
Back at the line of rental toilets, a door swung open. Darth Vader walked out, zipping up his suit. He wrongly assumed that his illegally parked El Camino had been towed, and he shuffled back to the car show. There he saw Jabba’s unattended Mustang.
“Do not underestimate the power of the Dark Side!” said Darth Vader as he used the Force to unlock the Mustang’s doors and start the engine. Vrooooom, soon he too was blasting across the desert in the stolen car of his sworn enemy. “Huh, this thing really gets moving,” he said to himself.
Then he saw Jabba chilling in the desert next to his El Camino.
Darth Vader drove the stolen Mustang to his stolen El Camino. He got out of the car and addressed Jabba.
“You know, dude, at first I didn’t like you because you’re a Ford guy and I don’t like Fords. But now I think your car is cool and you are too.”
“Thanks bro,” said Jabba. “Same to you. This car is intense. I see why you like it.”
Darth Vader paused, uncertain. But he decided to take a chance and share his feelings. “There’s more to it, Jabba. El Camino is Spanish for ‘the path.’ So this car symbolizes my path to the Dark Side, which is personally very important to me.”
“Bro, that is heavy,” said Jabba. “I got to confide: My car is symbolic to me, too. Although I am a legless slug-man who lives in the desert, I dream of galloping across the prairie. The Mustang symbolizes my wildest dreams.”
“Whoa,” said Darth Vader. “Wow. You know, you and I, perhaps we are not so different … perhaps I can call you friend.”
“Yes. Friend,” said Jabba, and he embraced Darth Vader.
And it was true. They were now friends.
Bonus story: R2D2 and the Chop Shop
R2D2 scooted back to his parking spot with C3PO.
“Oh no!” said C3PO. “Someone has stolen our Prius!!!”
R2D2 was angry. “Let me handle this, 3PO. I know who did this.”
R2D2 scooted into the desert at top speed and knocked on the door of a sand crawler. A Jawa answered, and a partially disassembled Prius was visible behind him. “Beep boop,” said R2, which meant, “You Jawas have boosted our ride for the last time!”
R2 stuck out a mechanical prong and electrocuted the Jawa.
“Eeeeee!” said the Jawa.
Fifteen other Jawas rushed R2. He lit his rockets and flew into the air, spinning around and kicking all the Jawas in their heads. They were out cold. R2 landed and pushed the Jawas out the door. Then he drove the sand crawler back to C3PO.
“R2D2, you’re my hero,” said C3PO.