The Dutch film The Human Centipede is (SPOILER ALERT) the ultimate in left-wing liberal recycling propaganda, but it never answers the question, how do they get around? Well, today's Checker 8-door may be the answer, but will its price leave you with a shit-eating grin?

There was lots to smile about yesterday, especially if you happened to be the seller of the mean and green - and apparently muy desirable - . His or her world was rocked with an 84% Nice Price win, which hopefully he'll append to his ad. Achtung baby!

If it were a finely sculpted horse rearing on its badge rather than a stylized airplane propeller,…

And now - as M. Python used to say - for something completely different.

The terms station wagon and depot hack were once interchangeable, and truth be told we could today be easily bemoaning the dearth of Depot Hacks in the face of SUVs and Crossovers instead of Station Wagons. Some time in the ‘50s the wagon evolved from commercial hauler to suburban standard-bearer, and for several decades following, was a common sight among the split-levels and deli-equipped supermarkets of America's tract-home dotted bedroom communities.

Also hailing from the fifties is the styling of Checker's venerated Marathon - although that name didn't actually appear until 1961. Also greeting the dawn of the jet age was the Marathon's Aerobus model, a wagon with more doors than Honey Boo Boo's mom has chins. This - and no, I'm not counting the rear hatch like the seller - looks like a blue whale's peen, although it appears to have seen far more action.

The body - all 24-feet of it - has some visible rust along the door edges, and alarmingly there seems to be a Möbius strip of them. There are also a number of creases and dents, but nothing a good driveway body man couldn't repair. The chrome is crappy, and the front bumper is bent, giving the car an appearance eerily reminiscent of a mid-debate . The frame, electrical system and suspension all remain a mystery, as their condition goes unmentioned in the ad, as does that of the Olympic-sized drive shafts.

On the plus side, it looks like all the glass is intact, and the ad makes the claim that the engine runs and that the clutch and three on the tree remain functional. By ‘71 a lot of the Studebaker parts had been replaced with Chevy units, making the ad's warning of the brakes needing work less worrisome. The engine should also be a Chevy part, most likely a 350. Remarkably that shouldn't be overburdened as the 12-passenger, 8-door Aerobus only tipped the scales at a reported 4,905-lbs.

But who would buy such a beast? Well, it would make a perfect bonding project for the Duggars, or should Octomom's dry heave inducing porn career not pan out as planned she and her brood could potentially live in the Aerobus's roomy confines. Bench seats for all! Lastly, the Navy could purchase it to finally answer the burning question, what's long and hard and full of seamen?

But before any of that could happen, $3,500 will need to exchange hands. That's a pretty rare opportunity as Aerobuses don't come around all that often, most likely due to their onerous turning radius. Should someone however have the space, and preferably a circular driveway, do you think they ought to drop $3,500 for this rough but almost ready Aero? Or, is this a Checker that you don't think should be jumped for?

You decide!

or go if the ad disappears.

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