So after reading my last entry I realized that it was indeed rather incoherent, and that I made a couple of mental jumps without thoroughly explaining. Sorry, again, guys.

Anyway, today I was driving along in my car listening to a half decent song on the radio, when a bright red Mazda Miata pulls up next to me at a stop light. Now I’ve never particularly been a fan of Miatas, for one thing they’re way tiny. They look like something only midgets and circus people should be riding in. I’m as anti-giant SUV as you can get, but a car that small can only has one good aspect about it, as far as I’m concerned: When someone gets hit by an 18-wheeler in one, the fire department doesn’t have to pry them out; they can use the thing as a ready made casket. I have no idea how this particular car became so popular, but it seems to have become the mid-life crisis car of choice. This one was no different. These two 250+ lbs, balding guys were crammed in this thing, thinking they were cool while they cruised along wearing their sunglasses and listening to the Eagles. All I could do was gape. I couldn’t even work up a laugh before they drove off. By the way, I use the terms “cruise” and “drove off” loosely. The car could barely move from stop. My little 4-cylinder 1.8 liter engine blew these guys away. And that’s just sad. The car was basically dragging the ground it was so weighed down. (Not that Miatas sit that high anyway). I bet every time they went over a bump it felt like someone was poking them in the ass.

Now this is not some diatribe against people who are overweight, and it’s not a rant against Miatas per se. It’s more about the idea of a mid-life crisis car. What jackass told this guy that it would be a good idea for him to get that thing? His knees were practically scrunched up against his chest, for goodness sakes! I suppose I can understand the general idea behind the desire to get a mid-life crisis car: You suddenly realize that your 50th birthday is around the corner, and that for the past 25 years or so, you’ve wasted your life and money on your bratty, lazy-ass children. You’ll never be sexy again, your joints hurt, you have a beer gut and hemorrhoids. So you decide it’s time to do something for you, dammit. Something to make you feel young again, something that you would have done when you were young if you had been able to afford it. So the safest, most socially acceptable thing to do is buy a flashy car. What confuses me about the Miata, is that if these guys are trying to feel young, shouldn’t they find cars that young people actually drive? I’ve never seen anyone under the age of 35 in a Miata. Instead of doing something that would actually make them feel younger, they do something, which in my mind at least, makes them seem that much older.

I actually think it’s funny how a car can describe the stage you’re at in your life. I pulled up to the Y the other day and there were like 8 Honda Civics, and four Mustangs parked around me. I don’t know how it is other places, but those two cars are the typical first car for most teenagers where I live. Sure enough, the inside of the Y was packed with 16 year olds with that, I-just-got-my-liscence-so-now-I-must-be-cool attitude. When I left an hour later, mini-vans and huge SUV’s filled the parking lot, which told me that the little kids’ swim hour had started. Anyway, I digress.

I found myself wondering about the whole mid-life crisis thing in general. I’ve never heard of a woman having a mid-life crisis; it seems to be a purely male thing, and I don’t know if it’s fair. My mom was bitching about my dad’s mid life crisis car (not a Miata, thank God) when she turned to me and said, “I should have my own mid-life crisis! He can go out, and buy the things he wants, no matter the cost, so I will too! This weekend I’m going out and buying some new furniture for the upstairs!” All I could think is WHAT? THAT is her idea of getting something for herself? She could have gone on vacation with her friends, she could have done a million things with her mid-life crisis money, and she decides to buy furniture? That’s just sad. I’ve decided that the day my husband comes home with his Mazda Miata, I’m going to find something to one-up him. Maybe a yacht. Or a vacation to somewhere tropical without him. Or maybe a cabana boy/masseuse named Ricardo. Whatever I get will be worth the money, and when he’s riding along with his knees by his ears, and his bald head getting burned by the sun, I’ll be having my own fun, and it won’t involve furniture. So there.

(Sigh) BTW, for all you realists out there, I wouldn't actually cheat on my husband with a cabana boy, it was just an example of something better than furniture. (Although really, I suppose just about anything wouldn've worked. What was that woman thinking?)