Does the fish take the hook, or does the hook take the fish?

Last night, Alice and I went to look at a Porsche 914 I found for sale on craig's list. It was blue with upgraded 911 suspension and brakes, five spoke Fuchs racing wheels, racing spec engine increased from 1.7L to 2.2L, Weber carbs, short throw shifter, and a racing stripe that the owner assured me added at least 5hp. Price? Only three and a half large.

Alice said it was too loud...

...and too bumpy...

...and too fast.

She inadvertently discovered the three main reasons, in no particular order, for owning any sports car worth its asphalt. Alas, she was not convinced by my modest pleas. Nor by my unabashed begging accompanied by genuine tears.

Alice was clearly not taking this bait with the Stuttgart badge, while I swallowed hook, line, and sinker. And so some lucky bachelor will daily be experiencing the joy of ringing ears, a sore bum, and hefty speeding fines. How I do envy.

If past experience serves me correctly, we are probably not the best owners of things requiring more than superficial maintenance. You may recall the '61 Vespa still sitting idle, or rather, not idling at all. Or the '48 Plymouth we barely managed to sell on eBay before it turned to a fine red powder before our very eyes. You probably don't know about the incident with the goldfish because we ashamedly kept that story to ourselves. But you get the idea.

The man is supposed to maintain any and all machinery or mechanical apparatus appertaining to his family or household. But as the man of my house, I am fairly busy with much more important things. Like perusing craig's list for great bargains.