Cars of the Past

A source of never ending amusement for me is seeing some of the cars that students drive to school. 

We have plenty of multicolored cars in our parking lot, more than a few with darkened windows, mismatched rims, and stickers of all kinds. 

One thing they all seem to have is loud speakers.

Everyone loves, or at least romanticizes, their first car. In my case, a white 1977 Cutlass Supreme with shiny wheels, a red leather steering wheel, and crushed velvet interior. I blasted  Ozzy Osbourne and Metallica cassette tapes (yes, cassettes) in my friend Shawn's ear back and forth from Brockton High School for the better part of two years.

These days I listen to NPR and drive a Honda Accord.

Boooooring.

Standing on Tradition

Last week I drove into Boston for St. Patrick’s Day. This is something I will never do again.

Thirty-two bucks to park, an hour and a half standing in line at Mr. Dooley’s, and an ill-advised double-espresso that kept me awake all night are just the highlights. Next year I’d rather go to the dentist.

My friend Larry had a similar experience. He was so looking forward to the Green Dragon, a place where, according to him, the American Revolution was hatched. “Imagine Jefferson and Franklin whispering over a pint,” he said to me with genuine excitement.  Instead all he got to see was people puking in line and arguing with the bouncers.  

While I admire people who seem to enjoy each other’s company en masse, particularly when alcohol is involved, I just don’t understand them. Corned beef, beer, and friends,  I get. Public drunk-stumbling, cattle herding, and price gouging I don’t. (A twenty dollar cover to spend money in your tavern, Mr. Dooley’s? Really?)

I did enjoy the walk through the north end with Sarah, where I took the picture below. I think it captures both cultures perfectly.