This is my car.
Actually, as my dad loves to point out, this is not my car, and it's going to be sold as soon as I get around to vacuuming, scrubbing and waxing it, and then vacuuming, scrubbing and waxing it some more. Or rather, once I'm gone, it's gone, as well as my room and everything else of mine that remains, although I think they're keeping the picture of me up on the wall. After all, as my brother told me, I'm still part of the family, because I'm "not married yet." Interesting logic right there.
So I've been thinking. I rather want to come back for the summer next year if I can somehow get an internship, but how will I ever get around with no car? There's absolutely no way I'll get to sit in the driver's seat of my dad's Mustang, let alone drive it, and minivans nowadays are so... well, classy. Not. So what's cheap and doesn't reflect a complete lack of taste? A motorcycle, duh. Which consideration caused me to marvel at myself. Who do I think I am to be able to pull of a motorcycle? I am, after all, no superwoman.
But then I remembered my old plan, to buy an ultra lite airplane, build it, and then fly it. Kind of like this one...
If the ultra lite could be a consideration, I don't see why not a motorcycle...
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