The 356sc winked at me first. Out of the corner of my distracted awareness, an eye-popping cherry red. Among the background ticker-tape-to-do-checklist mental chatter, it zoomed large. My brain focused. It sparkled. A dapper dandy with a tantalizing chrome rear grille. Creamy leather interior. Brashly languishing under an awning at Buddha’s shop.
I was there to drop off the Pig (my Mercedes R Class CDI) for service A. I had vaguely noticed that the EP shop had several delightful air-cooled Porsches on display. But with my much younger kids then, and my (then) three jobs, I could barely spare bathroom breaks. Let alone loitering around whispering sweet nothings to exciting Flat-6 2.7 liter air-cooled metal hunks. Nevertheless, this 356sc became lodged as a bright red, chrome-trimmed, uncomfortable, yet, persistently pleasurable pebble of desire in my heart.
On that particular day, I had felt slightly stretched even beyond my prodigious Dr. SuperMom prowess. Rushing in at 7:00 am to drop off the car, I crossed the 4 lane highway on foot, picked up the Enterprise rental, then hoofing it to Diva’s morning parent class presentation. Then to my packed morning clinic, followed by driving Cufflinks to the dentist, after which I had a yoga class, then a few more clinic patients and a meeting. And: pick up HairGel’s prescription from the pharmacy, then get two younger kids from school, then drive to Cufflinks’ advisory meeting, then cart HairGel to the salon, then pick up the Pig and go home and make dinner. Then, just to relax, pack a suitcase and drive to Williamsburg at 5am the next day, to chaperone on Diva’s overnight field trip.
Having survived so far, I returned to Buddha’s shrine. The indignity of dropping off the rental car, crossing the highway to the shop did not occur to me until I spied that 356sc again. As I paid my bill and complained about the lack of a loaner, the young assistant let drop a nugget of information. “For special customers, Buddha will sometimes loan out one of the Porsches.”
I flushed warm in the face. Partly fury that I was not a “special customer”, partly the singing sizzling feeling of the potential for me to become one! If only I could show Buddha…Yes! I can drive a stick shift! Yes! I can drive vintage cars! Yes! I get all tingly with the scent of an old leather interior!
Surely, then the great B could not deny me the Porsche loaner! I began to hatch a plan.
The rest of that evening’s drudgery wafted around me as I effortlessly tackled each task. My heart was singing. My brain was revving high on petrol fumes. My hopes were fully ignited.
I would find a way; I always have.