The Aston Martin DB7 Vantage's beauty is so out of this world unreachable, so untouchable, so intimidating that I've found myself walking away from it because I feel I'm not worthy to be in the same air space as it is. Which is ironic because the air space that I routinely find it in is in the parking lot of the gym I frequent. That gym happening to be the dumpiest, oldest, cheapest gym in town.
It's a long, boring, sordid, twisted tale of ownership change and lost contracts as to why I still work out at this scurvy and cholera invested dump. I have to wonder, though, why someone who drives an Aston Martin DB7 Vantage would come here. For the same reasons as I? Perhaps but there are few people as cheap as I am. Maybe, though they pinch pennies in one part of their life so they can spend it elsewhere? Like on keeping up on the frighteningly expensive maintenance of this legendary British grand touring car?
See what happens when you drive an expensive, exotic car? People automatically think you're filthy rich and that can cut you both ways. It's expensive to not only be rich but come across as rich. It's really expensive to maintain the trappings of the rich and if you want to give off the impression of being rich and you don't have the money to do so, well, good luck explaining to friends why you've gone from driving as Aston Martin to an old Chevy Cobalt.
I just hope the person who drives this car appreciates it for what it is; a kick butt. beautiful automobile that's as much rolling sculpture as it is a transportation device. Those that see it as nothing more than a trapping of the rich end up being trapped by those trappings. It's a slippery sloped. Still, seeing this old Aston Martin in the parking lot of my gym is not unlike rubbing elbows with a celebrity you'd run into in a cheap restaurant. It happens, occasionally but it leaves you with one question you want to ask them, "What are YOU doing here?"
No comments:
Post a Comment