I like cars. This might be surprising to some, maybe not to others. I like them because I can daydream myself into a glossy fast machine that does not have french fries stuck between the cushions and a rogue juice box hiding under the passenger seat. I like them because they have beautiful shiny parts. Now, I cannot have an intelligent conversation about engines, horsepower or such things, but I can appreciate a great car for a variety of reasons. I also have happy memories that anchor themselves to one car or another: learning to drive, road trips, proms, even an introduction to open-wheel racing. Each memory holds a picture of a car that seems to embody the very personality of its owner. I hope to drive a car one day that may have the same type of reflection on me. I am also hoping that dirty, cluttered “Mom-mobile” isn’t the vehicle that fits the bill.
Today, my protégé and I went to a local car show and had a great time strolling through the rows of shiny machines. The little one preferred all of the red ones. I gravitated to the more classic models – the ones with a little more personality, curves and chrome.
Enjoy your evening!