The Truth

It’s given me insights. Insights into myself, and into other people. And that alone makes it worth the cost, right?

My car. Not that I’m trying to rationalize...

At work, I thought few would notice... or care that much. And that was true- with the women. With men it was a different story. Word spread like wildfire, and every one of them, from the floor-sweeper to the store manager, complemented me on James, My Dream Car. And they looked at me different... a warm look that made me feel as if I was now an honorary member of some secret brotherhood...

Ironically, my own husband does not belong to said brotherhood... From the get-go he’s seemed intimidated by James, ostensibly desiring neither to drive it, nor even ride along as a passenger. He’s been a good sport, of course, and is obviously happy that I’m so happy with my purchase, but I can’t help but notice that he’s giving James the cold shoulder...

At first I thought it was because James is rife with computer technology and gadgets, the likes of which my hubby finds off-putting. And I also suspected he might be afraid to drive it on the off-chance that he would somehow damage it.

But no... A few glasses of wine this evening, and the truth comes out...

He and James, it seems (from his perspective, anyway), come from different sides of the track. Men like him, you see, don’t drive cars like James. “It just wouldn’t feel right.”

“I imagine...” he explained, focusing on a mental scenario, “That I’m going to the dump. Just like I usually do, except driving James. ‘You think I’m going in there?’ an indignant James would gasp, ‘I don’t go to dumps!’ whereupon he would wrest control of the steering, eject me, and head for...” Steve takes a moment to think what would arguably be the nearest enclave of rich folk with whom James my feel at home, “...Lovell!”
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