Yesterday I made the mistake of watching a car show on TV. I wanted something to occupy my eyes whilst folding laundry, and I can only watch so many office re-makes using MDF and ugly green paint. So, car show it was.
Oh boy. I’d managed to repress my lust for an amazing car for close to 2 years. Statesboro doesn’t have so many truly astonishing cars (unless your jaw drops for a 6 inch lift kit and 26 inch rims…amazing indeed, but not lust-worthy, in my opinion)
The Mother’s Show was on. Now, The Mother’s Show isn’t about cars owned by mothers, tho it might oughta be, especially if I’m a mother with a car in the show. Nor is it about cars that only a mother would love. No, Mother’s is a brand name of car care products, thus the name of the show. It has all sorts of restorations. Some were the sort Sweet daddio would do, if he had the time, not really Numbers Matching, nor original paint colors, but snazzy looking orange and turquoise Ford Torinos (ok, I know I dissed orange and turquoise in an earlier post, and I stand by that, but this Torino was quite eye catching) I can’t find a picture of it or I’d show you. There was (ahhhhhh….goooorrrrgeous!) a red 1957 Chevy Nomad. We have a nice big driveway. We could have a Nomad. Let me rephrase that. I want a Nomad.
Anyway, I’m watching this show and a covetous thought creeps into my mind. Don’t get me wrong, I’m lovin’ Little Martha, she’s a kick-ass little car that I get great pleasure out of denying my children the privilege of driving her, but I am, in my heart of hearts, a Vintage car kinda gal.
After the Mother’s show, came an auction, featuring convertibles. Oh Lord. Be still my beating heart. I won’t say that I wept, because I only weep for specific reasons, but I will say that I felt lust in my heart. I don’t mind lusting after these cars, because if I had one the Love of My Life would get to ride next to me, and enjoy the benefits of my deep satisfaction. No, the world accoring to Rootie does not revolve around a (REALLY! FINE!) piece of utilitarian machinery, but I do enjoy feeling the envy of SUV driving mothers everywhere. And, I’m thinking one of these would make mens heads turn more often than a Tahoe.
This one is nice, too, and probably easier to find than the pink one. At least for a better price. The pink one, unfortunately, costs as much as a house, not to mention the 5 mpg that would make it impractical for jaunts to Savannah.
We live in a region most conducive to driving a convertible. 9 months out of the year I can put the top down on Little Martha, and wear freckles on my cheeks. When it’s 95 outside, having the wind at 65 mph feels good on your skin, as long as one remembers the sunscreen. It’s just that, I am such a vintage sort of person, what with my Chromex kitchen goodies, and closet filled with 1950′s style clothing, I’m thinking a pair of cats-eye sunglasses and a chiffon scarf would look awesome with that pink Bel Air, or the Nomad, or the Malibu.
Maybe, one day when the kids are on their own.
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