Strange Glee Pt. II

First off, if anyone reading this didn't receive a visit from me during my recent whirlwind business trip, please know that it was partly because I was really busy, partly because I'm coming through again in November (when I won't have to work,) and lastly because I spent all my free time with the very charming Sonia Glass, whose antics are beyond description.

So with that out of the way, allow me to tell you that I'm not dying to own the new Cadillac SRX Crossover SUV, nor am I dying to own any car in particular, which means that my doe-eyed, yet ambivalent appreciation of luxury cars is for sale to the highest bidder. I do feel a new kinship with the Cadillac folks, who pampered me with business class flights (at least 48 hours of raw travel time) and two nights at the plush (yet stuffy in a golf-widow sort of way) Westlake Four Seasons. All this atop a raft of bailout greenbacks that we Americans helped lash together this winter, when the stormy waters of the global economy grew so very cold.

How could I say anything bad about the car after that? Aside from rejecting calls for a hybrid version due to lack of phsyical space, the real canard here, and it's one that Cadillac itself would love to disprove, is that Caddies only appeal to men over forty. This is factually and statistically debunked by the fact that my Grandmother, Ann, bought herself a woefully misundertood Cadillac Cimaron circa 1982, a vehicle that currently ranks number thirty five on Time Magazine's list of the 50 worst cars of all time. Personally, I rate the car very highly and feel that it might still represent a good buy on the used market. Although I wasn't yet old enough to drive when my Grandmother owned the car, I did particularly enjoy the smiling hamburger character that she kept suction cupped to the dash (she was, among other things, an iconoclast in the age of Garfield) but also because the only time I remember riding in the car we went to See's Candy.

So, I'm not really a car guy per se. I loved my three Volvo's, none of which were parts cars thank you very much, and I love my barebones pickup truck because it allows me to show up anywhere I want unannounced, just as long as I come bearing pizza in an insulated bag. Also, it helps to have some kind of ball cap. Towards the end of my California sojourn, when I found myself pinned to the passenger seat of Richard's (a good friend of the family down in Encinitas) monstrous Ford GT, where I couldn't help but grin the way one does on the Gravitron. So yes, I did enjoy yet another V8 engine, but keep in mind, the car was at HOV lane capacity (as a two seater,) which I imagine is usually the case, as I sincerely doubt Richard is at a loss for passengers on his land rocket. Richard doesn't commute in the thing, or use it to push hapless expats off the road, so he gets a pass from me. On the off chance that he happens to see this; thanks again!