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60
ELEGANT ISLAND LIVING
Life with the Top Down
I
recently purchased a convertible. But before you imagine a fast roadster speeding along winding coastal roads with palm trees and beaches in the background, keep in mind it’s a Toyota Camry without a roof. I sold my eleven-yearold four door Camry for a Solara of the same age and mileage (just rolled 100,000 miles!). I actually gave up some horsepower and speed in the process, but it seems like a fair tradeoff; I don’t really need the power now that I don’t regularly drive the beltway around Washington DC, but I do live in a place with an abundance of sunshine and warm weather. In my mind, it wasn’t nearly the big deal some others thought it was. For example, when I noted the change in rides on social media I had some people accusing me of having a mid-life crisis. Apparently the only reason for a man to drive a convertible is because he’s keenly aware of his own mortality and wants to have some fun before a heart attack or prostate cancer
gets him. In truth, the car was my wife’s idea. I’ve always been the one to keep an eye of what new cars are going for and what interesting used cars are being offered. She’s normally the one reminding me how utterly practical my Camry was, although the powerful upgraded engine had been a nod to my desire for something just a bit more fun. Since moving to the Golden Isles, we had talked about how it might be nice to have a convertible or a jeep one day. Originally, we had thought that in a few more years (four), when our oldest is getting ready to drive, we might buy a car that is fun for tooling around locally and going to the beach. But it’s always been a “down the road” (pun intended) idea. Until she texted me that a friend of hers was moving to take a new job, couldn’t take her Solara convertible, and needed to sell it fast. My wife wanted to know if “I” was interested. I’ve been married for seventeen years now, and I know my wife pretty well. Most days, anyway. I know, for example, that if she wasn’t interested in the car I would never have been the wiser about it. But she’s been married for seventeen years too. She knows me. I am quite certain that she knew that I would be interested. And because she’s smarter than me, she probably knew that I would know that she knew, and would therefore understand that she herself was serious about the car despite an “innocent” text. She didn’t have to explicitly say she liked the idea of picking up a convertible. Message received.
It’s no surprise based on my opening admission that I bought the convertible and sold my sedan. I also promptly found that my new-to me car was regularly missing from the garage. I’ve usually had the hand me down cars when my wife gets a new one, so this has been an adjustment. But, it confirms that my suspicions were right. I can never be totally blamed for the presence of a convertible in the garage, and I have that much more defense against charges of a mid-life crisis. Besides, it’s not a two-seater. It can haul the family just as well as my four-door car ever did, and it has a large trunk. See? It’s practical! I’ve come to learn that a lot of local people support responsible convertible ownership. They don’t see it as a mid-life crisis vehicle; it’s part of life on the coast. Beach life is meant to be lived without a roof, apparently. Come to think of it, most of the mid-life crisis accusations were lobbed from friends and family up north where convertibles are considerably less practical, and indeed smack of suspicious motivations. Snow and ice don’t mix well with rag tops. For locals, convertibles are as sensible as nice beach chairs, fishing rods, and broad brimmed hats. Now, if you ever see me towing a boat with my convertible, or shopping for a motorcycle, perhaps you can recommend a counselor to help me get my life sorted out. For now, I’m going to put the top down and let the sound of the wind drown out the naysayers. There’s still plenty of convertible weather to enjoy.
