My son, SC, bought a car today. He already has 5. Though he has lent one to a friend indefinitely and another one is theoretically mine. Oh yeah, he also has a motorcycle that doesn't work but is a lawn ornament in my backyard at the present time.

SC saw his most recent acquisition sitting abandoned in my friend's yard.The friend told him "...that thing's been sitting there for almost 4 years. Gimme a hundred bucks and it's yours." Apparently it was unstartable. Well, SC has a knack for fixing practically anything. So after half a day and $20 at the wrecking yard, the vehicle was ready to drive away.

So that afternoon I found myself behind the wheel of a 1978 Firebird. The V8 engine growled impatiently at stop lights. It snarled ferociously on acceleration. The tires shrieked at the slightest provocation. It gnashed its teeth and thundered down the street. It gobbled up hills like they weren't even there. People turned their heads, some even turned right around to watch it go by.

Wowwwwwwwwww. I could have cruised my way up and down the streets forever, but SC then insisted that I turn it back over to him. After half an hour it was ready for another tankful of gas, so I handed it over and returned to my Toyota Echo.