The Beamer Buzz

Today, for the first time in my life, I drove a luxury vehicle.

My grandfather, bless his soul, has excellent taste in automobiles. He isn’t a car monger, one of those people who has too many cars to drive, but more of a car connoisseur. He’ll drift through the sales lot of his favorite car dealerships (Jeep, Jaguar, BMW) and if a cheerfully desperate salesperson approaches him, Gpa will let him do his thing. After the salesperson has finished his pitch, Gpa will find a car he likes, talk the dealer down to something reasonable, and then politely take his leave without the car.

I am sure it confounds and frustrates the dealers, but Gpa is like a gourmet chef:  he nibbles, tastes, and sometimes swallows but rarely ever has a full meal. There’s just too much to taste. The few full meals he has taken on include a deep red Jaguar, one that sparkles in the summer light, a seven series Beamer, a hardy Jeep with all the bells and whistles, and a BMW convertible.

So imagine my surprise (and slight despair) when Gpa handed his strangely shaped keys to me before he traveled to the land of the snowbirds. “Come on, I’ll show you how it works,” he stated matter-of-factly, scuffling to the garage without waiting for my ready denial. There was no way I was touching that car. It was too nice. Murphy’s law was just waiting for me to get into those heated leather seats and behind that zero-to-sixty-in-four-seconds wheel.

I knew better. The balance of the world would be disrupted and I would get keyed, T-boned, and kidnapped all in one week. Grandpa would have to go all Liam Neeson to get me and his car back from some sex slave Sheik.

Nonetheless, I allowed Gpa to teach me ropes (“no, Katrina, you have to push the brake to start the car”), never realizing that I would use this shining pinnacle of luxury cars.

And then came the day when I had to use it.

There was no other way. I was in a corner:  stay trapped in my grand’s home for the day, or run errands with the burden of a crazy-expensive car on my soul. So I bucked up, and went for the gold.

It was amazing. No wonder people become addicted to cars! This silver bullet didn’t drive; it floated. As I flew down the highway, I cursed myself. I should have stayed in the house, watching House and making three different kinds of tea just because I could. Because now, I have the beamer buzz. That high that one gets from driving the best of the best. And now I was ruined for all others. Nothing would compare.

My future bank account curses you, Gramps, and your great taste in vehicles. I had high hopes of being ridiculously frugal, but I suppose every dream can’t come true.

However, I’m not sure my dreams or my bank account will be able to be heard over the roar of my future fancy schmancy engine. And that is perfectly fine with me.

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