Today I will write about car ownership. Before I get too revved up about those pieces of steel on wheels I'd like to clarify something regarding my writing style. The fact that I have chosen to write about life's everyday happenings may seem trivial and predictable to some. This is understandable when one considers the real journalists who risk it all in the war zones of the world and the intrepid beat reporters who take on Big Brother in order to uncover the latest shocking examples of government corruption.
The advantage I have over my professional colleagues, other than not having to wear a flak jacket when typing or worrying that I may stumble across another Watergate, is that my stories are begging to be told. They are right there for all to see. Every day life happens everywhere, every day and it's interesting. Often, it is also hilarious, disturbing, head-scratchingly curious or even just plain stupid.
I'm not bound by political leanings of my editors, nor by having to bang out 5000 words before a deadline so that I can get paid. In a sense, my stories are the Seinfeld of the blogging world. They are mostly about nothing in particular, yet they serve to tell us a little, or a lot, about who we are and how we choose to go about our day-to-day lives. Unlike Seinfeld, my stories are about real people and events. Anyone I know , or even not know, can be cast in a starring role. Life is my studio and you are my actors. I have no choice but to use you, the last I heard, Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer were in jail.
Now, here's my car story. I'm off in a few minutes to buy my mom a car. Ain't I a wonderful son? (That is meant to be rhetorical for any of you smart-asses who insisted on answering.) Well, as truth would have it, my generosity is really not as it seems. Yes, I will be giving the car salesman my very own money and mom will drive away with her very own brand new 2012 car. My actual generosity begins and ends with the drive I will be giving her to the dealership. You see, mom is also gifting her 2007 Subaru Forester to me. It's probably an equitable exchange - her car for me buying her the new car. It's amazing how semantics can change the entire meaning of a story.
Perhaps I am getting the better of the deal and in doing so I've managed to inadvertently rip off my own mother. Suddenly, this whole idea of the Nixon vehicle swap is sounding more and more like a Seinfeld episode. Let's role play for a moment. We'll cast mom in the role of the crazy and eccentric Mrs. Costanza and have her rip my head off for being such a conniving son. That would mean that I would be George, who just happens to be the biggest loser on prime time television. I guess it could be worse, I could be cast as Jerry and that would be just be way too funny.
