This morning, I got up relatively early (before 6:00 am) and was feeling pretty good about that, thinking I'd get going on several projects, not the least of which is me. Some exercise, a boost of energy...yeah, it would be a good way to start the day.
But, before I launched into my self-repair regimen, I decided to do a bit of browsing on the internet. It's now 7:45 am and I've just finished reading Time Magazine's reviews of its 50 Worst Cars of All Time. Normally, I'm not one to throw accolades at Time's writing, but I'm impressed with this one. Here's just a sample of the writing, a review of the 1975 Trabant:
This is the car that gave Communism a bad name. Powered by a two-stroke pollution generator that maxed out at an ear-splitting 18 hp, the Trabant was a hollow lie of a car constructed of recycled worthlessness (actually, the body was made of a fiberglass-like Duroplast, reinforced with recycled fibers like cotton and wood). Or how about this description of the 1982 Camaro Iron Duke?
...the Iron Duke Camaro had 0-60 mph acceleration of around 20 seconds, which left Camaro owners to drum their fingers while school buses rocketed past in a blur of yellow.
So, I wasted my time this morning while I could have been productive. But I had a good time. And my time wasn't all wasted. I took up where my wife left off last night on the great pinto bean cooking escapade...i.e., I took the beans out of the fridge and turned on the slow cooker again. That was after I made myself some coffee. My morning hasn't been wasted, after all...I've been highly productive.
1 comment:
This bit about the Cadillac Cimmaron is choice, too:
The horror. The horror. Everything that was wrong, venal, lazy and mendacious about GM in the 1980s was crystallized in this flagrant insult to the good name and fine customers of Cadillac.
Best current car-writing anywhere is Dan Neil at the L.A. Times. For example, from last week's column:
The Honda Accord ska-reams confirmed heterosexual, and not in a Larry Craig way, either. This car ought to be issued with a complimentary pair of relaxed-fit dad jeans. Every male owner should get a free BlackBerry, which is like monogamy's ankle bracelet. To own this car is to be possessed with an inexplicable urge to trim hedges. While other cars suggest the owner is still working out issues -- experimenting, if you will -- the Accord sedan says, "Hey, I'm past all that. I'm a smoldering volcano of straight suburban love, and I accept it."
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