October 25, 2006
Shrink
I still regret selling my first-edition Miata six years ago, but it had shrunk so much I could hardly get astride of it. Now I discover that if only I had waited it out, we might have made something together.
When I was flying for Uncle Sugar’s Navy forever ago, I measured in at 6′3″ and 160 lbs. As the tired saying goes, I was so thin, I had to run in circles in the shower to get wet all over. The other day, getting prepped for signing up for CP’s cardiac rehab program (I’ve not had a heart attack, I need the discipline), the trainer came up with my being only six feet tall. Without those three inches, I might be able to steer that Miata again after all.
Trouble is, the trainer also found another thirty-six pounds that for some reason had turned up in the seasons past since WW II. Maybe that’s the reason the Miata shrank.
It is hoped that (a reader scolded me the other day for using “hopefully” wrongly) with a few months into rehab, I’ll be ready for a Mini Cooper. Today’s NY Times says little cars are the current way to go, that SUVs are passé. If all that’s true, then prayers are truly answered, and the “Texas station wagons” are headed for the junk pile where they belong.