I’m not apt to win a lottery, believing that buying a ticket only marginally increases one’s chances of winning. But I’ll tell you this for free; every moment behind the wheel of a convertible on a sunny day makes me feel like a winner—summer or winter.
There’s something so euphoric about the combination of mechanical transportation and sunshine that scientists need to study its effects. If I could bottle the radiant bliss that sunshine brings behind the wheel of a convertible on an open road, I could make Bill Gates look homeless.
There’s something about the combination of sun, wind and a mechanical growl that secretes endorphins more forcibly than a fire hose at an inferno. I can’t put my finger on it or describe it as superior to copulation, but it’s powerful and far too seldom experienced.
I love sun, I love wind, and I love mechanized propulsion. Such aphrodisiacs are best absorbed at 50+kph. My recent stint in the 2011 Mustang Convertible confirmed that for me like Einstein confirming the theory of relativity. Don’t buy a lottery ticket to experience it, there’s no greater waste of gas money.
All one needs to feel like a million bucks is a stint in the sun—preferably in a ragtop propelled by a V8 with acoustics to match. If combustion propulsion fails to materialize, a bicycle will fill the gap quite admirably.
As winter approaches north of the 49th, seize upon every opportunity to expose flesh to the sun’s regenerative rays. Do it. Roofless or motor-less—the sun doesn’t care.
There’s something so euphoric about the combination of mechanical transportation and sunshine that scientists need to study its effects. If I could bottle the radiant bliss that sunshine brings behind the wheel of a convertible on an open road, I could make Bill Gates look homeless.
There’s something about the combination of sun, wind and a mechanical growl that secretes endorphins more forcibly than a fire hose at an inferno. I can’t put my finger on it or describe it as superior to copulation, but it’s powerful and far too seldom experienced.
I love sun, I love wind, and I love mechanized propulsion. Such aphrodisiacs are best absorbed at 50+kph. My recent stint in the 2011 Mustang Convertible confirmed that for me like Einstein confirming the theory of relativity. Don’t buy a lottery ticket to experience it, there’s no greater waste of gas money.
All one needs to feel like a million bucks is a stint in the sun—preferably in a ragtop propelled by a V8 with acoustics to match. If combustion propulsion fails to materialize, a bicycle will fill the gap quite admirably.
As winter approaches north of the 49th, seize upon every opportunity to expose flesh to the sun’s regenerative rays. Do it. Roofless or motor-less—the sun doesn’t care.