Yesterday morning, my husband and I were watching a local news show's segment that was broadcasting live from the Auto Show where the crowd was gathered with bated breath. In a few short moments, we were told, a Chevy representative was going to unveil the Camaro Concept Car!!
"Oh boy!"Jeff the Anchorman said excitedly. "I heard that, in some cases, people cried!"
I looked at my husband. "You have got to be kidding," I said. "Who the hell cries over a car? It's a car for godsakes. A CAR."
My husband looked at me and immediately radiated visible waves of celestial patience. He took a deep breath and settled more comfortably into the recliner. "Nance. Some people are into cars the way you're into...like, plays and art and...that stuff. You cry at plays, right?"
"But, a play is a re-creation of human emotion! It has, at its heart, humanity! It's about life and love and tragedy! A car is a machine and metal and rubber! How can you even compare the two? The people who cry about a car are morons and idiots. How stupid."
At this point THE CAR was revealed. Neither my husband nor I cried. I quickly scanned the crowd as the camera panned the group. Happily, I can report that all eyes were dry. When they cut back to Jeff, he was impressed, but composed.
Later that night, my husband and I went out for dinner at a favorite Italian restaurant. Free from the grip of my once-restrictive battery of medications, I decided to have my first martini in many, many months. Just ordering it made me feel like sneaking a cigarette at Grandma's. It came at about the same time as our appetizer of mussels in a buttery Pernod sauce. I ate a mussel and took a sip of my dirty vodka martini. Lord help me, I got tears in my eyes. My husband was watching me closely; he caught me, dammit.
"Aha!" he said, triumphantly. "Now do you understand about why some people might cry about the Camaro concept car?"
I took another sip of my martini. "No," I said. "Those people are a bunch of assholes."
I just got back here after a long time away. Please forgive me. I will be catching up very soon.
ReplyDeleteThis post is great. Cars do not taste as delightful as a well deserved dirty martini.
I whole heartedly agree with your evaluation.
Love,
Boo
Welcome back, Boo! Nothing makes me happier than prodigal readers who up my hit counter.
ReplyDeleteI'm not a car person, but I don't have a hard time seeing how someone might view one as a work of art. Even more than one of the new models of whatever, maybe an old car that a boy (or girl) and his father put together and had memories for. Of course, it does seem a little galling. One wonders if these same people who cry at an expensive car would shed the same tears for a homeless guy on the street who might be helped for a fraction of what gas for a day might cost.
ReplyDeleteBut that'd probably be asking too much.