Car Envy
I drive an old Oldsmobile. It isn't too old, but it is a 2001 model with over 100,000 miles on it. Actually, when you think about how old it is, I find it remarkable that it has just over 100,000 miles on it and not more. However, even better than being old and an Oldsmobile is that the car I drive is a MINIVAN. I have four kids. It really is no surprise that I drive a such a car. But put MINIVAN and OLDSMOBILE in the same sentence, and that sentence just screams soccer mom or some other phrase that makes me cringe.
Someday, I plan on driving something more sporty, more fun, more in line with what I consider to be my personality. I haven't looked around, considering I'll be wedded to the MINIVAN for years to come, but yesterday, for 45 seconds, I had a glimpse of the future. A sleek sedan with heated seats and zero crumbs. No Trader Joe's stickers on the windows, and I could actually see the floor, which was clean. The brakes worked well, as did the accelerator, and the feel of the wheel in my hands was awesome.
Here's the story:
I was out running along a main drag near my home. I happened by a long line of stores, some just opening, some still closed, and a Starbucks serving coffee to all the sleep deprived people that needed to drag themselves into work. As I approached the corner, a little past Starbucks, I looked to the left. There was a car that had front ended a mound of snow, and a driver trying to dig said car out.
"Do you need any help?" I shouted as I ran close. "I'm not that strong, but I can do something."
"Well, yes. Actually, if you get in and drive the car, I think I can push it out. I just got rid of the last of the snow in front of the car."
"It's an automatic, right? Then okay, I can do that," I said, as I hopped into the BMW. I put the car in low, as instructed, and left the door open, partially so I could hear the guy when he was behind the car and partially so I wouldn't get trapped in a car. I am a wary and cautious runner, after all.
"Go ahead and give it some gas," the man yelled. I stepped on the accelerator, lightly, and we moved forward slowly. I gave the car a bit more fuel, and we progressed further. "Head that way," he hollered and I turned the car a bit to the right so as to maneuver it onto a clean street.
Once the car was completely out, I placed the car in park, and exited the vehicle.
"Thanks," the man said. "I know it isn't fun stopping a run."
"Hey, you are welcome. I got to help someone. That's even better," I replied, as I ran off down the street.
Forty-five seconds at the most.
And now, I want a new car.
Someday, I plan on driving something more sporty, more fun, more in line with what I consider to be my personality. I haven't looked around, considering I'll be wedded to the MINIVAN for years to come, but yesterday, for 45 seconds, I had a glimpse of the future. A sleek sedan with heated seats and zero crumbs. No Trader Joe's stickers on the windows, and I could actually see the floor, which was clean. The brakes worked well, as did the accelerator, and the feel of the wheel in my hands was awesome.
Here's the story:
I was out running along a main drag near my home. I happened by a long line of stores, some just opening, some still closed, and a Starbucks serving coffee to all the sleep deprived people that needed to drag themselves into work. As I approached the corner, a little past Starbucks, I looked to the left. There was a car that had front ended a mound of snow, and a driver trying to dig said car out.
"Do you need any help?" I shouted as I ran close. "I'm not that strong, but I can do something."
"Well, yes. Actually, if you get in and drive the car, I think I can push it out. I just got rid of the last of the snow in front of the car."
"It's an automatic, right? Then okay, I can do that," I said, as I hopped into the BMW. I put the car in low, as instructed, and left the door open, partially so I could hear the guy when he was behind the car and partially so I wouldn't get trapped in a car. I am a wary and cautious runner, after all.
"Go ahead and give it some gas," the man yelled. I stepped on the accelerator, lightly, and we moved forward slowly. I gave the car a bit more fuel, and we progressed further. "Head that way," he hollered and I turned the car a bit to the right so as to maneuver it onto a clean street.
Once the car was completely out, I placed the car in park, and exited the vehicle.
"Thanks," the man said. "I know it isn't fun stopping a run."
"Hey, you are welcome. I got to help someone. That's even better," I replied, as I ran off down the street.
Forty-five seconds at the most.
And now, I want a new car.
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