There are many things about the onset of Spring that produce joy. There is nothing about Winter yielding the same result.
Warmer weather, a distinct absence of snow, popping flowers, no snow, and fauna running wild through the yard are among Spring’s attributed. Plus, it’s unlikely to snow.
The heating bill goes down, the water bill goes up and the cost of electric to run the air conditioner – who cares? No point sweltering in one’s own home.
But one of the very best things about Spring is the cars. Not the new model year cars. That’s already happened.
The old model year cars. Sports cars. Muscle cars. Cars that look like rocket ships. And cars intended for strapping surf boards to their tops. (There is no surf in Rochester, NY, despite grand claims of being on the “North Coast.” Which would be Lake Ontario. Great, no doubt. But it ain’t no ocean.)
Cars that make a lot of noise whether they lumber or race down the street. Cars that look as though they weigh five tons, are two city blocks long and should be equipped with one of those brass ship’s instruments with a handle and that makes the Cha-ching noise when the captain shouts, “All ahead full!”
Cars that look as though they’re fun to drive. Even if turning a corner involves two full revolutions of the steering wheel and a dislocated shoulder. Unless, of course, you have a suicide knob attached to the wheel. Which only saves one’s shoulder but no fewer revolutions.
Cars that have been “souped-up.” Customized with lots of chrome and exotic paint jobs in colors Detroit never thought of.
Cars that get lousy gas mileage. But at 25 cents a gallon, who cared? And adjusted for inflation, the per gallon price can’t be too different, can it?
Cars with a clutch that requires a strong leg muscle. Not those namby-pamby, wimpy, Sissy-Mary clutches that engage just to be polite or civil. The same kind of clutch that allows for peeling-out, laying rubber, chirping or smoking the tires to get ‘em sticky and for better traction off the line.
Cars equipped with (mint condition) cigarette lighters and an ashtray as well as those tiny, triangle-shaped windows on driver’s and passenger’s sides that (actually) open with the (manual) twist of a chrome “wing.” The windows that make the ashtray unnecessary.
Cars with tuck-and-roll upholstery your legs get stuck to when you’re wearing shorts. And lap-fitted seat belts that apologize for their presence.
Cars that get parked alone (sob) in the farthest possible space. And cars that don’t leave the garage when there’s even a hint of precipitation.
Now where are those Jan and Dean, Beach Boys and Dick Dale albums and 8-tracks?
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