Regular readers of this blog already know that RG and I have been members of the Mini cult for some time. The twin events of coming into a small inheritance and seeing my good friend Gail snag a coveted new model, the Mini Clubman, pushed us over the edge. We ordered a basic model, Sparkling Silver, standard shift, with a black roof and Redwood Lounge leather seats. We are going to call it CHEEKY (that's to be its vanity plate). RG has spent countless hours on the incredibly interactive MiniUSA website playing with Cheeky's comely configurations, and many more hours out in the garage preparing for the new arrival. (Our excuse for this Mini extravagance is the money we'll save on gas: Gail tells me her Mini gets 40 miles per gallon.)
Within 24 hours of uploading our ad, AutoTrader had found us a buyer for RG's '97 Ford Escort — and that is how last night I found myself in the blue Camry pulling up in front of one Providence's coolest restaurants — Ten Prime Steak & Sushi — where I was meeting my cool friend Charlie for drinks. Right behind me, up pulls a gleaming black Mercedes. As you can imagine, the two parking valets were jockeying for position. "This is a very special car," I said to the lucky one. "You'll take good care of it, right?"
"Are you kidding? This is a great car," he enthused. I pointed out to him that the Camry is a soon-to-be classic, a powder puff with just 30,000 miles on it. He was impressed. Anybody can buy a Mercedes, but this car — well, it's priceless. "Thirty thousand miles!" he said, "I could drive it around the block that many times." (I hoped not — something might fall off.)
As we always do, Charlie and I had a great time catching up. We sat at the bar, nibbling on a Morris roll (shrimp tempura and crab) and Coho salmon nigiri, he with his Manhattan and I with my Sapphire Martini. The crowd was elbow-to-elbow, young (we guessed mostly 30s) and good-looking. And I just felt so cool knowing that my pumpkin Camry would soon turn into a fairy-tale Mini.
