Sunday, July 02, 2006

The Genetics of a Car Enthusiast

Friday night, it was decided by Natalie that we should all go to Wahoo’s ( for some quesadillas and rice (for her), and so we did. At least we were out of the house and out of the heat. Dinner was nice; Matthew was as complacent as ever, and fun was had by all. After we ate and as we were leaving (to go to Target, of course), there parked in front of Wahoo’s was a newer model white Corvette convertible with blue Shelby racing stripes down the body. I’m not much of a fan of the newer Corvettes (give me a 53 Corvette any day), but I noticed it as a nice looking example of a Corvette and I’m sure the owner was quite proud of his car. It was expensive and well taken care of.

Just then, as we were all thinking it, Natalie said: “Oh, that’s a pretty car.” Out of the blue.

I never thought she even knew the difference between a sports car and a regular car, much less a pretty car. There were plenty of other cars in the parking lot, but she decided that this Corvette was nice enough, in her eyes, to be labeled a “pretty car.”

I was rather impressed, not only with her taste, but with the fact she voiced her opinions about them. Never before has she pointed out a car she thought was nice, and we’ve seen some nice cars in our local travels and in pictures on the Internet. Of course, even at a very young age, she would turn the pages of a magazine until she found a car advertisement; she would point to it with excitement and cry, "Car!" To her, however, I thought all cars are utilitarian modes of transportation (you know, the way her mother thinks of them), and that there is no way a car could be thought of as a thing of beauty. I guess I was wrong and she was waiting until she found one she liked until she made her interests known.

“Yes, yes it is a pretty car, Natalie, that’s right,” I responded as Kara and I saddled up both kids in the truck. She must have really admired it.

As we were driving off, Gnat said, “Bye, pretty car.”

So, she’s living proof, there is a genetic code specifically for car enthusiasts and I’ve been somehow able to crack it. Now, if I can only get her to go near my Volkswagens (they scare her because they’re loud, even when they're not running).

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