When I was a kid, my dream car was a ’69 Camaro SS. Many of my friends, obsessed with European sport’s cars like Lamborghinis and Ferraris, made fun of me and called me white trash. But I stuck to my convictions and wound up driving a ’68 Impala all through high school and college. About twice as long the Camaro I’d always lusted for, my Impala was at least in the same league. I highly doubt any of those little jerks with their walls covered in Countashes and F40s ever drove anything close.
But I was out in the neighborhood yesterday with Jez and overheard something I could hardly believe. Three boys, around the age of 10, ran across the street in a big hoard. They had their eyes on something, but I couldn’t figure it out.
Then one yelled over to his buddy, “Hey, is that the new Prius?”
“Yeah,” the other kid confirmed.
I was pretty shocked. I never would’ve thought an eco-friendly, four-door sedan with no style whatsoever would look “cool” to a preteen kid. Of course, as much fun as I had with my old car, I’m pretty sure all the fuel burnt feeding the Impala’s 327 probably could’ve been put to better use. But at least I have my memories. The old days when the only Green Movement that mattered was the Curtis Green movement and my big hooptie attracted stares, not glares and dirty looks.