Growing-up, I distinctly remember a time in high school when my mom was constantly lamenting the car insurance bills. I don’t really know how it was possible, but the number eight sticks in my mind. Eight?! We had four drivers… can my memory possibly serve me correctly?
Let’s see. I had the Geo Metro. My mom had her red car. My brother had his TR3A. But of course you can’t drive an antique car every day, so I think he also might have driven Harrison Ford. Then my dad had his work car, plus he always has a farm truck. And then the ’59 Caddy and another vintage car? Yep. Eight. Memory like a steel trap.
My dad has never appreciated my cheeky remarks about the garage being an antique car museum.
It looks as though Jakey may take after his granddad. I’ve counted six, SIX vehicles… and he isn’t even two yet!
Obviously you can’t drive a vintage fire engine every day… it will end up breaking down and then the women in your life will begin to comment on its reliability and the costs of keeping it running. So, clearly his bicycle is more of the daily workhorse. Not to be confused with his workhorsey… which is really more for weekend transportation. Plus everyone needs a farm truck, and a wagon, for when you have to haul wood for home improvement projects and such. And then there’s the sporty stroller for weekend getaways up the coast. You’ll notice they’re all convertibles…
Typical.
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