Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo found himself sitting behind a bright red, immaculately-maintained Alfa Romeo 4C Coupe this morning.  I’m not sure that I’ve ever actually seen one before.  I’m really not much of a car guy, but even I was deeply impressed with the way it had “high-performance” etched into every line and curve.  (Whether it measures up under the hood, I wouldn’t know.)

So was the older gentleman behind the wheel putting her through her paces?  Was he at least keeping up with surrounding traffic?

No.  He was futzing down the parkway at about 25 mph and erratically swerving to avoid pot-holes.  Took me ages to finally find a way to swing round him.

Guy! If you’re not going to drive the car the way she deserves to be driven, what exactly is the point in even having her?

Yes, I expect you dropped a good bit of coin on her and want to protect your investment, but if you’re that scared of dings, take her home, hide the keys, and build a museum around her like Cam’s dad did in “Ferris Bueller”.  If you keep up the way you were going this morning, not only will you continue to look ridiculous, you’re also just begging somebody to clip you in their impatience to get past.

Just saying.

You know who you should emulate?  Some years ago (I forget how many and am too lazy to search the webz for the story), a single bottle of some fantastic vintage wine was auctioned off at Christie’s and set a record purchase price (somewhere in the high six or possibly even seven figures, I believe).  The fellah who won was asked what he planned to do with it.  Why drink it, of course, he said.  There was much tut-tutting and looking down noses by the Establishment, but I remember thinking there was a frood who really knew where his towel was.

Don’t worry, be hoopy!