Now, I’ll be the first person to admit that I know very little about cars – to perhaps an embarrassing extent. I like classic cars, that much I know. But I can point out very few and say, “Oh, I know what that is.” As my boyfriend put it, I’d probably be happy driving my 2005 Honda Civic the rest of my life. .
There is some truth to that, I suppose, though I do have interests in certain cars. Although not for the same reasons that most automobile aficionados do. Whereas some might prattle on about the power of a vehicle, or size of it, or it’s collectability, I will marvel over a car of small size, or odd shape or endearing (read: freakish) qualities, similar to how one is intrigued by a clown car. For example, I would buy a smart car. There size and shape alone makes me giddy every time I see one on the road. In my head, I imagine it making that bubbly Jetson hover-car sound that is instantly recognizable. As an added bonus, it’s energy efficient, so you can’t go wrong there. I’m having a difficult time convincing others that it’s a cool car, however. The closest I’ve come was the other evening when Nic and I were walking in the Fillmore. Parked on the street was a smart car painted entirely matte black. It looked like Batman’s bite-size batmobile. I was told that I may get one – but only if it were to look like that.
I’ve seen this three-wheeled car around town (Santa Cruz). It haunts me in a sense. It’s white with bright yellow trim. I’ve never seen the driver, so I’m convinced it’s remote controlled. In my attempts to find out what it is online, I came across a website dedicated to 3-legged vehicles. I think I may have to want to have one. They have such non-threatening names like the Sparrow, the Cursor, the Freeway, and my favorite, the Isetta. The Isetta was one of the most successful “microcars” in the years following World War II and was originally developed by an Italian company specializing in refrigerators – which would explain a lot in terms of how it looks.
My Brother-in-law just bought a 1962 red Chevy Nova. As soon as I climbed in, I felt like I was stepping back in time. And when he turned on the radio, music from its era appropriately emanated from the car’s speakers (once the radio transistors warmed up, that is). It’s got no bells and whistles (yet), just a great classic look and feel – like a distinguished grandpa.
There is some truth to that, I suppose, though I do have interests in certain cars. Although not for the same reasons that most automobile aficionados do. Whereas some might prattle on about the power of a vehicle, or size of it, or it’s collectability, I will marvel over a car of small size, or odd shape or endearing (read: freakish) qualities, similar to how one is intrigued by a clown car. For example, I would buy a smart car. There size and shape alone makes me giddy every time I see one on the road. In my head, I imagine it making that bubbly Jetson hover-car sound that is instantly recognizable. As an added bonus, it’s energy efficient, so you can’t go wrong there. I’m having a difficult time convincing others that it’s a cool car, however. The closest I’ve come was the other evening when Nic and I were walking in the Fillmore. Parked on the street was a smart car painted entirely matte black. It looked like Batman’s bite-size batmobile. I was told that I may get one – but only if it were to look like that.
I’ve seen this three-wheeled car around town (Santa Cruz). It haunts me in a sense. It’s white with bright yellow trim. I’ve never seen the driver, so I’m convinced it’s remote controlled. In my attempts to find out what it is online, I came across a website dedicated to 3-legged vehicles. I think I may have to want to have one. They have such non-threatening names like the Sparrow, the Cursor, the Freeway, and my favorite, the Isetta. The Isetta was one of the most successful “microcars” in the years following World War II and was originally developed by an Italian company specializing in refrigerators – which would explain a lot in terms of how it looks.
My Brother-in-law just bought a 1962 red Chevy Nova. As soon as I climbed in, I felt like I was stepping back in time. And when he turned on the radio, music from its era appropriately emanated from the car’s speakers (once the radio transistors warmed up, that is). It’s got no bells and whistles (yet), just a great classic look and feel – like a distinguished grandpa.
I should probably be embarrassed that I’m (again) not exuding the required masculinity on yet another “man” topic. Truth is, I’m a big kid, and have surrendered to the fact that I probably always will be. So those of you sitting in judgment can go waste your money on your flashy mid-life crisis sports cars, while I will coast by you at a considerably slower speed in my grandpa clown car, flipping you the bird.
Love it.
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