Walking to the bus stop Tuesday morning, the path takes me beside the parking lot of a local dairy/breakfast spot. I can’t but notice the sleek, silver Porsche that whips in and parks there, especially when the car parks at an angle instead of bothering to park within the lines.

Imagine this, in a not-so-posh parking lot, this car taking up three spaces because the driver chooses to park at this angle, deliberately.

Out comes this 50-something, handsome yet severe-looking man, hair dyed dark, dressed in this deliberately dirty-denim get-up like he is actually just a local mechanic out for a bagel and coffee between repairs. It looks like an expensive denim jacket, too tailored and artfully damaged. The man literally struts across the lot, stopping only to take in me gawking along and only then choosing to click his little door-lock/car alarm thingie only because someone is watching (yes, I am a cynical girl).

The front license plate, of course, literally says “COMMANDR” . . .

I wish I was kidding.

People are funny. 🙂