Cool Car

Summer is nigh, time to be light, even a bit silly.

The other day, riding my bike, this car passed me. Wow! First thing I noticed was the color, some kind of mango peach. Very tropical. Then of course, there was its relationship to the ground. Tight. As if the static earth and the moving vehicle were kissing cousins. The black accents. The spoiler. The articulated rear exhaust. Also the model: Camry. When did a Camry become hot?

Lucky me, the light ahead turned red and the car stopped. I rolled alongside and, in classic old white guy fashion, chatted up the driver.

“I love your car.” “Thanks.” A heavyset guy with dark skin and even darker sunglasses.

“Did you customize it yourself?” “Yeah.” A Dominican Republic tassel dangled from his rear-view mirror.

“You from the DR?” The guy flashed a wide smile “DR forever!”

The light turned green. “Enjoy your day.” “You too, man.”

The car lumbered off. Not too fast. Because really, it’s too low for speed. I pedaled behind, enjoying its sinuous contours and lush finish. Savoring our innocuous, pleasant interchange.

A few blocks ahead, the driver turned and parked. I detoured to take these pics. I just love this car.

Perhaps the most un-American thing about me is that I can like things — all sorts of things — without the slightest desire to possess them. A trip to Restoration Hardware triggers the same feelings as MFA’s Colonial furniture gallery. Cool stuff to see, but nothing I’d ever care to own. I certainly have no interest in owning the most American possession of all: an automobile. Yet I was smitten by this souped-up Camry gliding along a Cambridge Street. It brought me joy on a long, warm day. Joy I ricocheted back to its proud owner.