OK, OK, Chuckles wasn't behind the wheel when his 'spensive car was driven off a ravine near his home in Santa Monica-it was allegedly stolen from his garage. But isn't it fun to picture a Wily E. Coyote scenario in which Charlie, tiger blood coursing through his veins, flies his Mercedes off a cliff, pauses in midair, and then plummets into a gorge filled with hookers?