Monday, May 16, 2011

An American Graffiti moment














If you didn't see this classic "coming of age" movie, then you won't understand my reference. 

I'd like to say that I had dinner with an old friend, but she won't allow me to describe her as "old".  Laura and I worked together many years ago, when I was on my way to being old and she was merely a babe.  Yes, a babe then and still a babe today.

Dinner was a result of a cancelled company reunion and a subsequent trip to CT.  Laura's family was kind enough to allow her a night off and we met at a new restaurant in Danbury called Max 40's.  We spent hours hours catching up, drinking wine and eating calamari and pizza.  When the night came to an end, Laura muttered something about how hard it was to drive her car home after a few drinks.  She seemed fine and so I inquired.  She said, "Oh, I have this race car outside.  My husband races."  Huh? Wha?  How come we didn't get to that in our catch-up conversation???

So, we exited the restaurant and there was this spotless, late-model Porsche 911 C4S.  White, with a full roll-cage, a slow, loping race idle and a heavy clutch that makes it so difficult for a young woman in heels to drive.  Being a car nut, Porsche fan and wanting to capture the moment, I had to have a photo.  Laura was happy to play along, standing near the car but, she was more interested in my getting a good photo of the car, than of her.  So typical.  As a mom of two, she stood by the car, rather than posing.  After several attempts, I got a halfway decent shot that (yes, Laura) shows that the car is a Porsche and of my friend.


It was only on reflection of our fun dinner that I realized that, to some, she is the mystery blond in the hot car.  What do guys think after she pulls away from them, engine "blat-blat-blatting"?   I can only surmise that she is the stuff of dreams now, this quaint little Connecticut housewife.  Little does she know that, when she hops into this car to run her errands, she's turning heads, causing consternation amongst young males and causing more questions than can be answered in one long night.  In this case, life imitates art.

I wonder if she's ever seen American Graffiti?

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket