Quick Shifts

Each week I bring you the top stories in the auto industry along with my commentary or sometimes amusing thoughts about the craziness that goes on in the world of cars.  Here is this week’s edition:

Stories you’ll find today:

• She Wanted a Toyota. They Gave Her Yoda. She Got the Last Laugh!
• Scratch-Off Shenanigans: The Only Prize Was Buyer’s Remorse!
• The Wienie 500: A Frankly Unbelievable Race Day
• Texas Man Reinvents Towing, Fails Spectacularly! (with video)

She Wanted a Toyota. They Gave Her Yoda. She Got the Last Laugh. In the spring of 2001, one Florida Hooters waitress was hustling harder than a Jedi on a mission. The restaurant where she worked had announced a promotion tied to March Madness: whichever server sold the most beer during the NCAA basketball tournament would win a brand-new Toyota. Motivated by the chance to upgrade from bar tabs to car keys, she poured, served, smiled, and upsold pitchers like her life depended on it. And sure enough, when the promotion ended, she was declared the winner. Cue the celebration. Management blindfolded her and led her to the parking lot, ready for the big reveal of her new ride. But when the blindfold came off, there was no gleaming Corolla or shiny Camry waiting for her. Instead, on the pavement sat a small doll — the kind you’d find in the toy aisle or perched on a dashboard — of Yoda, the wise old green guy from Star Wars. A “Toy Yoda.” Get it? Management chuckled. The waitress did not. Apparently, she hadn’t been working doubles for a plastic pun. She lawyered up faster than you can say “these aren’t the keys you’re looking for.” She filed a lawsuit alleging fraudulent misrepresentation and breach of contract, arguing that any reasonable person would assume “Toyota” meant the car, not a three-inch Jedi master. And really, she had a point. No fine print had warned contestants they were actually competing for an action figure with a lightsaber. The case never made it to trial, as Hooters’ corporate parent decided that maybe the publicity wasn’t worth the punchline. They settled the lawsuit out of court, with the waitress ultimately receiving a real Toyota of her choice. The final twist? The exact model she chose was never revealed, but we’d like to imagine it was a Celica GT-S with enough horsepower to outrun the shame of the whole ordeal. The incident quickly became legendary — not just as a cautionary tale in promotional clarity, but as a shining moment of poetic justice. After all, the little guy (or in this case, the little green guy) didn’t win. The woman who worked her tail off and called out the gimmick did. And while the legal system never officially weighed in on whether a pun can legally void a promise, the takeaway for companies is clear: when you offer someone a car, don’t show up with a Happy Meal toy. Because if you do, someone just might sue you into delivering the real thing — and drive off into the sunset, leaving you and your marketing department in the dust of your own bad joke.

Scratch-Off Shenanigans: The Only Prize Was Buyer’s Remorse!  When you get a scratch-off card in the mail saying you’ve won $10,000, you probably don’t expect to end up with a GMC and a headache. But that’s exactly what happened to Robert Bakken, an 84-year-old veteran from Illinois who thought he’d hit the jackpot and instead wound up in a marketing black hole. It started with a promotional mailer from a local dealership. One scratch later, Bakken was allegedly staring at a winning ticket, the kind that’s supposed to come with confetti, a giant check, and someone shouting “You’re going to Disney World!” Instead, what he got was a full-court press from dealership sales staff who convinced him to buy a 2020 GMC Acadia Denali — a midsize SUV with a full-size price tag and absolutely no resemblance to a five-digit cash payout. There was no real $10,000, just a "congratulations!" on paper and a sneaky twist in the fine print — which apparently said something closer to “congrats on winning a chance to hear our extended warranty pitch.” Feeling misled, Bakken sued both the dealership and the Texas-based advertising company that dreamed up the promo, accusing them of deceptive marketing, misrepresentation, and, in spirit, grand theft optimism. And he’s not alone. In fact, the state of Indiana recently filed a lawsuit against that same promotional company — Hopkins and Raines, whose idea of excitement includes sending out 2.14 million mailers claiming people had won big prizes like new vehicles or piles of cash, only for those “prizes” to magically transform into $5 gift cards, discount coupons, or in some cases, a coupon for a free turkey. Which, in fairness, is still better than a Toy Yoda. These bait-and-switch promotions seem to be on the rise, proving once again that if the only thing standing between you and a new car is a lucky scratch, you’re probably scratching your way into a showroom trap. The real kicker? These promotions technically aren't illegal if the fine print gives them an escape route — which it usually does, often in 2-point font. But while loopholes may shield the crooked dealers, they don’t always protect them from lawsuits, embarrassment, or newsletter mockery. In the meantime, let Bakken’s story serve as a warning: If you get a mailer claiming you’ve won $10,000, be sure to ask whether it’s in cash, coupons, or cluckable poultry. And if they blindfold you and lead you to the back lot — run. At this rate, next week’s prize might be a bag of mulch, a fake cruise, or a signed photo of the dealership manager. Remember: when it comes to big prizes, always check the terms, the fine print, and whether the "Toyota" has four wheels or pointy ears.

The Wienie 500: A Frankly Unbelievable Race Day.

Ladies and gentlemen, this Friday, May 23rd, 2025, is a day that will go down in frankfurter folklore as six of the most gloriously oversized hot dogs in human history trade their cushy marketing duties for glory at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Yes, the Oscar Mayer Wienermobile fleet is officially going full throttle—relatively speaking—in the inaugural Wienie 500, and if that name doesn’t make you chuckle, you may be underseasoned. These legendary 27-foot sausages on wheels, typically known for delighting children and blocking drive-thru lanes, are now locked in a battle of buns, honor, and V8-powered velocity as they circle the iconic 2.5-mile oval in a spectacle that’s one part NASCAR, one part backyard barbecue, and entirely ridiculous in the best possible way. Each of the six competing Wienermobiles represents a different region of America’s proud hot dog heritage. There’s the Chi Dog representing the Midwest, rocking a bold celery-salt-and-attitude flavor; the New York Dog from the East, minimalist but relentless with its mustard-and-kraut bravado; the Slaw Dog from the Southeast, as creamy as it is confident; the Chili Dog from the South, messy, muscly, and probably going to stain the track; the Seattle Dog from the Northwest, complete with cream cheese weirdness and deep existential cool; and of course, the Sonoran Dog from the Southwest, bacon-wrapped and bringing the heat like it’s racing through the Arizona desert. While these rolling tube steaks look like they were built more for photo ops than finish lines, they’re actually riding on serious underpinnings: GM truck chassis, Chevrolet V8 power, and presumably enough aerodynamics to keep them from blowing away in a stiff breeze. No one’s expecting lap records to be broken, but with six Wienermobiles attempting to apex Turn 1 without becoming a tangled heap of mustard and fiberglass, the entertainment value is already off the charts. If the Oscar Mayer marketing team’s goal was to inject some chaotic neutral energy into Carb Day, consider it achieved with relish. The race starts at 2:00 p.m. Eastern, streamed live on the FOX Sports app and the INDYCARonFOX social channels, and if you’ve ever wanted to witness a slow-speed chase between cartoonishly large frankfurters while placing real bets on the outcome, today is your day. There’s even a free DraftKings pool where fans can guess the winning dog and split a pot of ten thousand real, American dollars. Yes, someone somewhere is reading tire compound data for a Wienermobile and adjusting their fantasy picks accordingly. This is the America our ancestors dreamed of. The winning Wienermobile will be doused not with milk, like a traditional Indy 500 champ, but presumably with a celebratory squeeze of ketchup and mustard, assuming no one from Chicago complains too loudly. It’ll be a glorious moment in motorsport history, one that will live on in grainy phone videos and TikTok edits long after the last bun crosses the finish line. So, grab a hot dog, fire up the stream, and toast to the greatest meat-based motorsport this side of the Nathan’s Famous eating contest. The Wienie 500 is here, and it’s everything you never knew you needed.

Texas Man Reinvents Towing, Fails Spectacularly! (with video). Some people learn from mistakes. Others make them in spectacular fashion, this time on Houston’s I-610 loop, in broad daylight, with a Saab 9-3 convertible facing the wrong direction. This rolling catastrophe began when 32-year-old Dontae Brown and his girlfriend decided that hiring a tow truck was optional, and that common sense was negotiable. Faced with a broken-down Saab, they hitched it to the back of their Ford Expedition using a chain, pointed the convertible backwards, and hit the gas. Apparently, the duo thought, “What could go wrong?” The answer, as it turns out, was “everything.” For the uninitiated, towing a front-wheel-drive car backwards means the front wheels—the ones connected to the steering—are in charge. And in this case, they had absolutely no idea what they were doing. The result was a scene that looked like a deleted chase sequence from a low-budget action movie. As the Expedition charged ahead, the backwards Saab fishtailed violently across the freeway like a toddler on roller skates. It bounced, it swerved, it played a high-stakes game of bumper car roulette with innocent commuters. Witnesses could only marvel at the absurdity, as the improperly tethered convertible whipped side to side like it was auditioning for a demolition derby. Eventually, gravity, chaos, and physics all conspired to end the madness. The Saab crashed, the tow chain was tangled, and traffic finally had a moment to breathe. Police arrived quickly, no doubt unsure whether to write a traffic report or just shake their heads in disbelief. While no injuries were reported, the damage was done—both to the Saab and to whatever lingering credibility the couple had left.  Then came the bonus round. Upon further investigation, officers discovered that Brown had an outstanding warrant in Georgia, presumably for a previous misadventure that didn’t involve a backwards convertible. He was arrested on the spot, adding legal trouble to his already impressive list of towing violations. His girlfriend, who was behind the wheel of the Expedition, somehow escaped charges—possibly because she was the only one facing forward, but I digress. This isn’t just a story about a failed tow job. It’s a modern tale about what happens when you mix stupidity, a busted Saab, and a vague understanding of mechanical engineering. There are safe and legal ways to tow a car. This was none of them. A proper flat-tow setup involves the right hitch, the right dolly, and the right direction. And ideally, the absence of active warrants. In the end, the Saab was left bruised, the Expedition probably needs a new bumper, and Dontae Brown got a one-way trip—not to the mechanic, but to the back of a patrol car. The moral of the story? Don’t try to reinvent towing logistics in the middle of rush hour, and if you're going to commit a vehicular circus act, make sure your record is squeaky clean.  You've probably seen the video of this unbelievable event, but just in case:

Photo credit: THE KRAFT HEINZ COMPANY.