York Powel writes:
>
>If I had to make a guess I would say that you are still young and have not
>had a taste of lifes cruel realitys. I know when I was younger I felt that
>station wagons were the biggest waste of time and materials, I too swore that
>I would never even think of owning one. Then... along comes mariage and our
>first child, ...
Well, I'm looking 41 square in the face now (to some that may be young but
right now it feels like I pre-date Hudson Bay), but you are right to suggest
that I don't have kids (otoh, we do have two rather large and hairy dogs).
Regarding life's cruelties... well, we all have our double-crosses to bear
(as Jackson Browne once said). Our dogs usually ride in my wife's civic
wagon. They are permitted in the lbcs only so long as is required to take a
"cute" picture (dog toe nails and leather don't mix).
I guess my remark on mini-vans and such stems from the fact that compared to
the lbcs we all love, those things are just so d**n big, and are (forgive
me!) more often than not, driven by folks who aren't into driving as an
expression of precision, decision, or ... I can't think of another "-sion"
word but I hope you get my meaning. Effectively, they are moving obstacles
to me, a soul in search of the open road.
The six passenger pontiacs are a slightly different matter. Here's another
offensive generalization: it seems that they are all driven by middle-aged
men (jeez, just like me =:o ) who think they are actually driving a '67
corvette. I'm reminded (yet again) of a line from (I think) Firesign
Theater (oh no! not the porridge bird!): "Drive the car that says, 'GET OUT
OF MY WAY!'"
Have a nice weekend (anyway),
Will "What, me sourpuss?" Zehring
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