COUNTDOWN ALERT: FOUR MORE DAYS TO FIGHTBALL: DYING OF SUCK!
In the meantime, I give you this:
I walk into the room, and Mark is watching the television. Without taking his eyes off the screen, his voice rapturous, he says, “It’s beautiful. Look at it. It’s just as gorgeous now as it was back then.”
I look at the television. All I see is a car. Mark keeps talking.
“I can’t believe it’s almost 50 years old. LOOK AT IT. The lines of it, the power of it … LOOK AT IT. It’s perfect. Even after almost 50 years, it’s still perfect.” He sighs happily.
I settle into the couch beside him. “You don’t usually talk like that. Good to know that when the occasion calls for it, you can work up heartfelt emotion about the things you love.”
He misses the sarcasm. “LOOK AT IT … fifty years old and perfect. Still just as timeless and amazing as the day it rolled off the line. THAT NEVER HAPPENS. That’s like a once in a lifetime thing.”
“Is it, though?”
“IT SO IS.”
“I’ll just put you down for a short speech at the party, then.”
He turns to look at me for the first time since I walked into the room, his face confused. “What?”
“I’m going to be fifty in a few months.”
He is beyond flustered. “I was talking about the car.”
“I know. Use that same rhapsodic voice when you talk about me turning fifty. Timeless … amazing … perfect … once in a lifetime … that sort of thing. Like I said, I’ll put you down for a speech.”
“Ummm …” He pats my arm awkwardly. “You’re different.”
“Am I indeed?”
“You’re …,” he searches for a word, “ … you’re YOU.”
“Nice save, babe.”
“What? You’re not a Camaro.”
And … unsaved.