Like Red Sex

La Bella Macchina, 2003

We have a friend, a single woman and elementary school teacher, who works part time as a waitress at the little place where my wife and I have lunch on Sundays. We don’t know a whole lot about Diana, but do know she’s a hard worker and that she has a wicked sense of humor.

Last spring Diana started talking about how she was going to get a new car. Each week we’d ask her if she’d gone looking yet, and each week she’d make an excuse for not having done it. It was really none of our business what she did, but she seemed disappointed if we didn’t ask about it each week. So we continued to ask each week and then let it go after a while. She said nothing more.

Until last week.

We’d barely set foot into the café when Diana grabbed our arms and pulled us back out into the parking lot to look at a car she was thinking about buying. It was a cute little bright red Honda coupe with a spoiler on the back and all sorts of souped up features.

“It’s like red sex, that car,” she told us with a prurient wink. “After I drive it I feel like I need to smoke a cigarette.”

We admired the car and gave her a hard time because she’d repeatedly told us before that she was looking for a good practical car she could “drive into retirement.”

Diana’s not a dewy-eyed 20 year-old. But my guess is she’s far from retirement. She’d been driving a nondescript hulk of a car she inherited from her late sister for at least twelve years.

We encouraged her to go for the fun car if that’s what made her happy. We’re of the belief that everyone ought to do a little something special for himself or herself now and then. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. But if your idea of a treat runs to a car, and you can afford it, then why not a shiny little red sports car?

When we pulled into the café this past Sunday, there was no red sex car in the parking lot. But over at the far edge was a brand new Honda Element with Diana’s license tags on it. People in the auto business tell me the Element is supposed to be for the Indie-minded young person. But in our neck of the woods it seems to be more popular among soccer moms who aren’t ready yet to throw in the towel and drive minivans.

When we got inside, we immediately pressed her for news about the car. “I just couldn’t do that,” she said. “I couldn’t get that red car. I couldn’t keep sex out of my mind when I drove it, and that just didn’t seem right for a teacher.”

That’s our Diana for you.