Last night Drew and Jake went to the Hudson Valley Renegades game (which ended up getting rained out). They stuck it out until the final announcement was made, though, and they were rewarded with two tickets for another game in addition to their tickets last night acting as a rain check for the rained-out game. So it all worked out. Still, they got home pretty late. After Drew put Jake in bed he was telling me about a woman he saw pulled to the side of our very dark country road. Her hazards were on and he rolled down the window and asked if everything was okay. She was fine, but she had just hit a deer and needed to know the name of our road, the cross street, and the town.
Turns out she was driving a Porche SUV. Yikes! Which of course made me joke about the name — the Cayenne. I feel sorry for the lady, and this is no slight against her, but I just think it’s a dumb name for such a big vehicle. A lot of cars have kind of silly names, don’t you think? The Aviator (does the car fly, too?), the Probe (um… you can make your own joke there), the Brat… Of course, maybe they reflect the drivers’ personalities sometimes. You know what I would love to see? I think it would be hysterical for an auto manufacturer to roll out a new convertible, market it to middle-aged men in their mid-life crisis mode (because who else buys those things?) and call it (drumroll…) the Extenze.
Thank you, thank you! I’m here ’till Friday and don’t forget to try the veal!