I'm not really the kind to worry about what I drive. As long as the vehicle gets me from point A to point B, I'm satisfied. I drive a mini van with over 300 thousand miles on it for crying out loud. And she leaks like a banshee (is that even a thing?), not to mention she's making some real awful noises as of late. But I love her all the same. She has more character than any of those new cars on the lot, no doubt about that. When the day comes that Goldie (my van) breaks down, I don't know what I'll do. Probably search for a used car with plenty of character who is but a lot younger and in better condition than Goldie. However, maybe that day will never come and Goldie will just keeping living and living until I reach old age and have put plenty of miles on myself. That would be peachy. Then hopefully by that point, I'll be old and rich enough to purchase the one kind of car I really appreciate. A classic. Classic cars are just prettier than the cars of today. They each are like a piece of art.
This past weekend, Brian and I went to a car show, which is much like an art show. Except instead of walking through a museum and looking at paintings, you stroll outdoors through the smoldering heat of the day and admire awesome cars, all while listening to the Beach Boys blasting through nearby speakers. We had a ball, even though it was in the 90s and our faces were dripping with sweat. We bought some smoothies to help cool us off. Then we really cooled off by hitting up the pool after we got our fill of classic cars.
It was a fantastic Saturday. Obviously. Five mile run up the canyon. Cruise In Car Show. Smoothies. Oldies. Swimming. Yes, fantastic.