Random Pensees' post on the demise of the Rover car company (replete with pretty pictures) reminded me of a thought I was going to share with you all the other day, but forgot about.

Earlier this week, I was walking home from the store when a beautiful late-50's, butter yellow, MG convertible whipped around the corner and took off down the street right in front of me. This thing was mint. Everything shone and gleamed and looked as it should look. A gorgeous car. Someone should consider themselves really fortunate to own such a beautiful vehicle on a gorgeous day, when they would be able to enjoy it to the fullest because it was a convertible. Well, guess who that special someone was, that lucky soul who was driving that gorgeous car?

Behind the wheel was a redheaded, sixteen-year-old, well-dressed brat who was undoubtedly skipping school as it was ten in the morning.

That would be when I started turning green with envy. It's completely possible that some stupid parent here in the fair fiefdom of Cake Eater Land, where there's more money than sense, had given their kid this car as a present. It's also completely possible that this kid had ripped it off from his parents' garage and was pulling a Ferris Bueller.

Either way, I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. A pox on their house.

Gosh, I really miss driving. I really miss Miss Marie, too.

Posted by: Kathy at 08:24 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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