It's really not too much to ask, really

All my life I have had magnificently bad cars. Most were by choice, some were mistakes which should have been foreseen, sometimes I just fall in love. As often as not, I fall in love with something I would like to see in the garage, rather than truly own, or be dependant upon.

I have wanted a Range Rover Classic since about the day after I first saw one. I can't imagine a more useless piece of rolling toxic waste, but my heart just skips a beats every time I see one. My little friend on my shoulder says it won't hurt that often. I know better.

Since giving up my car to Number 2 son this summer we have been a one car family if I don't count the Bentley. It really hasn't been inconvenient having one car, just limiting.

So with the big storm approaching I thought I'd approach my bride with logic. We'll be stuck in the woods forever, without one, I suggested. The neighbor plows the drive, was her retort.

The car is near free, the on going expense no greater than a severe gambling addiction. Still she says no.

Toad

Boys and their Toys

Unlike many of my friends I do not have many boy toys. No season tickets to sporting events, no golf, or expensive country club memberships, don’t hunt, no collections. What I do have is my fantasy garage.

I like cars. My tastes are simple, but tend toward British cars of my youth as opposed to say, flashy Italian exotics. I would rather own my cars than have them own me. Also, I am blessed with garage space.

Some have the gift of walking into a room and knowing exactly what accessory should go where, or how to decorate a space. I get half way there and then things fall flat. But what I can do is picture what needs to be in my garage, and where. It’s a near useless gift, but one none the less.

I have always liked Land Rovers and have lusted after a Range Rover for as long as I can remember. So why haven't I bought one? I'm cheap, and until now there has never been an inexpensive Rover.

Lucky for me, $4 gasoline prices have spooked many owners of these thirsty beasts into getting out at firesale prices. So why venture where angels fear to tread? In Mayberry, I'm lucky to drive 50 miles per month.