Two days ago I had a beautiful Porsche Carerra S parked in front of my home. Alas, it wasn’t mine, nor will it be. Pity.
No, my dad is acquainted with an Entrepreneur (E). E has this work of art sports car, and it ran rough, for a few days, then smoothed out. E asked my dad to bring the wunderkar to the dealer to ask the computer What Was Wrong. Dad, being the block off which I-am-but-a-chip, said "OK!". So, I wound up with my parents in the house and a Porsche in the driveway. (Nothing wrong with the car, BTW). (Nice to have the parents here, too).
So, this Porsche (which goes like crazy and rides like a go-cart) is in my driveway for about 6 hours when I get an email from a neighbor (who doesn’t have a line of sight to said driveway): "Hey, like your new ride. The Porsche and BMW clubs are having a combined meet…" …and I realized I’m in too deep. Just having the Porsche in the drive has attracted attention.
I had to confess, immediately, to accept brief embarrassment to prevent permanent ostracism. I replied to the email, the awesome Porsche left (home to E), and my life goes on. Really. I don’t miss it or the rock-hard ride. No, I don’t. The emailer has yet to let me in on his disappointment, or relief; either way, I’m not in his club.
And, no, I don’t want a 911. Not this year. Nope. Not at all.