Me and my Porsche

My family and I were driving around collecting a few bags of junk from the local Free-Cycle yesterday.   After collecting and promptly chucking in the nearest curb-side garbage can a plastic grocery bag full of old shoes (you never know what you're going to get, quality-wise), the drive took us along the perimeter of BYU campus.  It was as alive as ever--students and cars and bikes everywhere, coming and going.  As we were driving east along the south end of campus, I spotted something less in kind with the rest of a college atmosphere: a brand new, fire-engine red Porsche.

I love Porsches.

I really like cars in general.  I've always liked cars.  But a Porsche--mm--have always been my weak spot.
What college kid has a freaking car like that?  I don't know.  And what rich mommy or daddy, even though they can obviously afford it, would really buy their kid a car like that for their kid?  What does THAT teach the little brat?  And really, who even buys a Porsche in the first place, right?  Someone with deep-rooted psychological need to show off how much money they've got and wants to stick out and look cool and make up for something they must subconsciously feel they're missing and....  Well, someone who's a REALLY VAIN and INSECURE PERSON, right?

I don't know.

I learned something about myself.

Even if I ever have the money, I'll never buy a Porsche or any other fancy-pants vehicle.  I couldn't do it.  And I don't love Porsches or other sweet rides because of their potential as status symbols.  They're just cool.  Beautiful.  Feats of engineering and design!  But there's a bit of a price--not fiscal--to driving something like that.  Do I want to pay that price as well?

I don't know.

And probably whoever was driving that sweet red thing was a really nice person who just had money to burn and wanted a really nice car.  Probably he wasn't trying to rub his money and status in my face.  Probably he wasn't trying to point out, "Hey, you stink, buddy!  You can't even get an interview!  You'll never have a car like this!  Ha!"

No, I don't think he was saying that.

Probably he was just driving home from work.  Probably a job he worked really hard to get and works really hard at every day.

But I want a nice car, too!

I think it will have to be a Volkswagen.

And live in a perfectly average house.

In a suburb.

And wear nice, but conservative clothes.

And have my kids attend public school.

What does this say about me???

I think I'm anti-flashy.

***

There's probably a thesis in sociology here.  I was just thinking that there's a lot of stuff I have that's considered pretty flashy by some, while pretty drab by others.  That "some" and that "others" would most likely be defined by socio-economic demographics.  If I happened to live someplace where Porsches and mansions and fifty-acre manicured lawns are all the norm, I would probably feel just fine about owning and driving a Porsche.  Somewhere else, I might feel pretentious and conceited driving my Honda.