Ah, the rite of passage. Like a gentleman’s first single malt whiskey or first graduate degree, there are certain moments that mark one’s arrival at the next chapter of life. And, if you have one of these three vehicles, then “Mazel tav!” – you’re having a baby.
“Wait a minute,” you say, “I don’t have a baby.” You may not have one yet, but the primordial, procreative portion of your psyche knows better. It is, after all, why you just spent a fortune on a the automotive equivalent of Erdinger. I mean, sure it’s German, it tastes the part, but wouldn’t you rather have a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier? Here’s why you couldn’t help yourself.
When you were young, Brandon Flowers, you imagined yourself looking equally dapper parking your E46 M3 at the office and at the club.[1] You shifted your way through the gears as recklessly as you jumped from one romantic entanglement to the next. Then, before you knew it, you realized that your fellow M3 owners were still drinking keg beer and getting highlights.[2] Lamentable. And you thought to yourself, “I can do better.” So you bought an Audi S6. Well done, sir. Who can argue against the unassailable logic of placing a Lamborghini V-10 engine within the sophisticated and sensible sheet metal of the solicitor’s saloon of choice. Not to mention the respect of your fellow automotive enthusiasts, who appreciated your discerning taste in limited production vehicles.[3] “So much power,” you thought, “and yet so confident and controlled at the extremes.”
In hindsight, it seems so obvious. Your choice in cars is aspirational – a physical manifestation of the way you see yourself. So now you see where this is going, right?
You’ve just (foolishly?) purchased one of these three German SUVs.[4] And the experience was straight out of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” “This one is too hard,” you said when you drove the X5. “This one is too soft,” you said of the ML 350. And “this one has questionable reliability,” you said of the Q7. All kidding aside, you were merely splitting Homer Simpson’s three[5] remaining hairs because you had no other choices. Okay, you had other choices.[6] But you are a gentleman motorist and you’re having a baby.[7] Or you are about to and didn’t fully appreciate that yet. And for that spoiler, the Gentleman Motorist apologizes. But it won’t be your first rude awakening. Wait until your first night home with the baby. And your first repair bill from the dealership. L’chaim!
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[1] At his friend’s behest, the Gentleman Motorist’s father borrowed an E46 M3 for a day. When he returned the car, he noted the number of younger women that went out of their way to see who was driving such a magnificent automotive archetype. “Boy were they were disappointed to see a middle-aged dad,” he said with a smile.
[2] And you freaked out at your out-of-warranty repair bills.
[3] In truth, they were marveling at your ability to weather titanic depreciation and Audi’s checkered reputation for reliability.
[4] Who says men don’t “nest.”
[5] Technically, Homer Simpson has four remaining hairs – two on top and the two “Ms” on sides. But the images was just too good to pass up.
[6] You thought about the Land Rover Range Rover Long Wheelbase Autobiography Black Edition, but your budding paternal instincts told you that the most expensive SUV in its class was not the sensible choice.
[7] Well, in truth, a woman that is more than likely too good for you is having a baby. But you played your part.
Photo(s) from Wikipedia.
In hindsight, it seems so obvious. Your choice in cars is aspirational – a physical manifestation of the way you see yourself. So now you see where this is going, right?
You’ve just (foolishly?) purchased one of these three German SUVs.[4] And the experience was straight out of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” “This one is too hard,” you said when you drove the X5. “This one is too soft,” you said of the ML 350. And “this one has questionable reliability,” you said of the Q7. All kidding aside, you were merely splitting Homer Simpson’s three[5] remaining hairs because you had no other choices. Okay, you had other choices.[6] But you are a gentleman motorist and you’re having a baby.[7] Or you are about to and didn’t fully appreciate that yet. And for that spoiler, the Gentleman Motorist apologizes. But it won’t be your first rude awakening. Wait until your first night home with the baby. And your first repair bill from the dealership. L’chaim!
_______________________________________________
[1] At his friend’s behest, the Gentleman Motorist’s father borrowed an E46 M3 for a day. When he returned the car, he noted the number of younger women that went out of their way to see who was driving such a magnificent automotive archetype. “Boy were they were disappointed to see a middle-aged dad,” he said with a smile.
[2] And you freaked out at your out-of-warranty repair bills.
[3] In truth, they were marveling at your ability to weather titanic depreciation and Audi’s checkered reputation for reliability.
[4] Who says men don’t “nest.”
[5] Technically, Homer Simpson has four remaining hairs – two on top and the two “Ms” on sides. But the images was just too good to pass up.
[6] You thought about the Land Rover Range Rover Long Wheelbase Autobiography Black Edition, but your budding paternal instincts told you that the most expensive SUV in its class was not the sensible choice.
[7] Well, in truth, a woman that is more than likely too good for you is having a baby. But you played your part.
Photo(s) from Wikipedia.
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