Well, I have now seen some of the pix from my normal August pilgrimage, the Woodward Dream Cruise. As seems normal in the years of late, there was some amount of precipitus interruptus, but nothing like '03, when we were just coming back on from the blackout right about then. There has been a year or two I haven't really felt like going, just because I was so tired of looking at cars because they reminded me of other people's problems that I was dealing with on a daily basis. As far as cars, as I have stated a bit before, the love seems to be making a comeback. I saw the pix and wished I was there. Ah, well, next year I'll definitely be there, with my Tip Topper bud Larry as my sworn ally for such an event. It's a guy thing, you wouldn't understand. And one of these times, I will be rollin' in something fine of my own. I can say with confidence that I will now. The right life, the right lady, (one who'll relish such an endeavor right there with me,) all I need now is the right raw material. My brain is sayin' one of the sixties Lincoln Continental 4-door convertibles, or perhaps a 50s Caddy ragtop stuffed full of 502 GM crate motor cubes. Lincoln Mark IRS and air ride underneath, Ivory and sand two-tone on top, with a camel Everflex top and matching leather interior. Yeeha. Yeah, okay, Martha will probably have different things to say about colors, but hey, she's the woman, if she diverges, we'll go with it--barring the suggestion of some Mondrian-esque color block thing that ends up making it look like the Partridge Family bus. (Remember that monster?) We're pretty much agreed (I think,) that the currently-in-vogue burnt orange is a definite ixnay, although a brick red pearl and gold might be nice, too. You can see where I'm goin' with this. After the rest of my existence, the last thing I'm gonna be is uncomfortable, or otherwise compromised on my dream ride. Don't get me wrong, the high-tech trend amongst the pony cars and muscle rides is cool as hell to me, but I've driven some more mundane (if you can use that term,) muscle, and wasn't incredibly impressed. And Vettes always have me feeling like I'm piloting a packing crate, as low as I sit in most of them. A properly done '65 or '66 GTO might be nice, or maybe just break down and stick to one of the new Detroit muscle warriors like the new Shelby GT500. In any event, of course, job one would be teaching Martha to drive a stick. Better handle that beforehand......