The Taurus

I love reading other blogs. And these days, it seems that's all I'm doing. I stumbled across Uppercase Woman a few months ago and really enjoy her pithy commentary. Yesterday, she wrote about her favorite car here.

I have had quite a few cars... And while my first thought is to offer up the Red Saturn Vue that was an engagement present, my favorite car of all time has to be my first one - the Taurus. It was a beige (I think my Dad called it sand) 1995 Ford Taurus and man, we were close friends.

My Dad drove it for a year or so before he turned it over to me. At the time, I was devastated. When you go to high school with the sons and daughters of the managers over at the BMW plant, it's easy to expand your expectations. Despite the fact that I was downright giddy at getting a car, I sort of wanted to pick something out myself. (You know, like my brother did a year later. I'm not bitter.)

However, on the day it was turned over for good - I sensed it. FREEDOM. I put a purple peace frog on the back window, purchased in Georgetown, of course. Also, let us not forget, the pink bumper sticker with some sort of vegetarian message. I love animals? Don't eat them? Something like that. I was so set for my 1.25 mile drive to high school. Ahhh, suburban middle class hippiedom.

That was when gas was .89 cents a gallon. We used to fill up just to drive around. I tutored one of my friend's brothers for gas money. So two of my friends - oddly, both named Erin - would get in the front seat of the Taurus and we'd cruise around Greenville... All in the front seat. It was hysterical. EVERYTHING would fit in that car. And I hauled it around.

My father sold it during my freshman year in college and I was so sad. Two more beige-ish Tauri followed. After that, I'll never buy a beige car again.

Humor.

We're watching that cute GE commercial where the cute Asian woman catches the eye of the cute Asian man in a remote village. You know the one, he trips and she ends up being the doctor that takes the X-ray.

- K. turns to me and mentions that China doesn't have a capital gains tax.
- Oh, really, I say.
- Yes. I'm learning mandarin. We're moving.

Oh my goodness, am I kept entertained.

Sunday calls for chicken.

Or, what is a statement I overheard while leaving Publix this evening, for $200.

I thought it was funny... especially since it came from a fifty-something gentleman on an obvious date. As I left Publix with my silver polish, jet dry and chocolate cake (yes, it's Sunday and I will eat some cake dammit), I was glad that I wasn't on a date at fifty-something. Not that I think it would be the end of the world or anything - but I can't really fathom it.

It's amazing how some things seem out of the realm of possibility. Sort of like moving to Florida? Perhaps, my friends, perhaps.