I sat at Starbucks for almost an hour this morning, waiting for my parents to get back from Dallas where they were buying a car. An Infiniti. Because one Infiniti is not enough. They finally pulled into the parking lot, Mom driving the old Infiniti, Dad driving the new one. The new one is gold.
"Old lady gold," I said.
We sat together in the corner while Dad read all the papers and the manual. He looked up suddenly, offended at my comment. "Is not!"
Mom chimed in, "I love the color."
I smiled. "And what are you?"
"An old lady."
"I rest my case."
Dad explained to me all the old-lady-gold Infiniti's amazing features. "Did you know this car has a steering-wheel heater?" He said it with such profoundness, like the caveman who discovered fire. WARM HANDS. WHILE DRIVING. HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF SUCH A THING? Yes, Dad. We call them gloves.
We left Starbucks. I drove with Dad in the new car. I turned on the radio. The Eagles. Dad turned up the volume on the nifty little steering-wheel controller. We sang along. We're already home. Just sitting in the driveway, singing "it's a girl, my lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowing down to take a look at me!" at the top of our lungs. It sounds dumb, but it's one of those rare memories that I hope I remember for a long, long time.
