I am in the market for a car and something amazing has happened. All I notice are the cute little red cars on all the lots! I hate red. But I am drooling over fire engine, candy apple, torch and redfire! Man, there is a new Mustang GT Convertible with a 4.6 liter V8 that is to die for!
What happened to me? I generally shop for gas mileage and an interior the color of dog hair. I thought only men suddenly hit a stage where they had to have a sporty little red car.
I think it hit me when we took the boss out for her birthday lunch last fall. I rode with Martha in her Sebring convertible. On the ride back we had the top down and Alanis Morrisette blasting. Two middle-aged has-beens shouting, "You-you-you ought to know!" while the wind tossed our hair and our words tumbled down the road behind us.
It was so freeing! So different than banging my head to Nine-Inch Nails in a paint-chipped station wagon with "I (Heart) My Australian Shepherd" on the bumper.
So, in a midlife shift, is it the real you coming out, or a fantasy being you've been inventing all these years? All that time I thought I was a beat up, lifted 4WD pickup truck with a herding dog in the back, was I fooling myself? Could I really be a GT Premium 2 door convertible with bucket seats and leather interior? How could I not know this about myself?
If this is a sign of things to come, I can't wait to learn more about who I really am! I might beat my daughter in getting that Cotton Candy pink '68 Nova.
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