Road Musings

I love driving.  I think it's really in my blood, either as a Californian or a relative of The World's Happiest Truck Driver, Bill LaPlante.  Most of the time, Steve and I have a whole, "Do you want to drive? Cause I can drive if you don't want to drive" round about conversation that will only be stopped once we adopt driving responsibilities based on the day of the week.

Although I love driving I don't think I'm much of a car person.  I'm okay washing my car once every couple of months and I don't look at other people's cars with envy too often (except when I'm laying across half of the back seat with my butt crack exposed to the world and fire coming out of my ears because of the $#@%* seat belt on Pinky's booster seat that will NOT close. I'm getting upset just typing about it. At that point I do glare at the SUV moms with jealousy and contempt.).  But I have noticed that when I am thinking "Nice Car!!!" it's almost always a white BMW.

A few days ago, I was driving to pick Pinky up from preK (say that 10 times fast) and in front of me was a sparkling white BMW Z4 Roadster. Beautiful!

As I stopped behind it at the light, I read the blinged-out license plate frame, "I'm THAT Barbie.  The Bitch that has everything."  So I went to check her out in her mirrors and started to giggle because it was her husband driving the car.  That always gets me!!  Either I see girls driving cars that are decked out in skulls and half-naked women or guys with Tinkerbell and Winnie the Pooh all over the place.  Way to make a statement.

A few miles later I ended up passing the car as it slowed down to turn right. And as I did, I looked over only to discover that the driver was indeed a woman! [Gasp!]  She had a baseball cap over her crew cut, was about 68 years old, and, I'll tell ya, give that lady a saxophone and she could be the fourth California Raisin.

I was shocked and all I could think as I drove past her was "I'm sorry, but they don't make that kind of Barbie."