To Catch a Convertible

It’s completely unlike me to fetishize a mode of transportation.

When I first moved to the States for grad school, I thought of buying a motor scooter because they looked so adorable (think Audrey in Roman Holiday, or one of the Jetsons), but the thought of exercise prevailed and I pedalled my mountain bike for ten years. I craved a canary yellow Cannondale bike for a short while, but its steep price deterred me and I stuck to my red Miele.

If someone tells me he or she bought a fancy new car, I won’t bat an eyelash; I’m simply not interested in transportation as status, or anything as status, as I hope I make clear on myblog.

For me, it’s all about beauty, all about the line. High, low, or in between, I’ll take something aesthetically enchanting wherever it may fall; and I’ve fallen for many a diverse silhouette.

So all this preamble is to prepare myself--me, really, not my gentle readers--for my unlikeliest crush yet . . . on a car.

In the town where I’m staying there’s a 2004 Ford Thunderbird convertible in mint green for sale. Mint green doesn’t begin to describe this color. It’s more of a pale verdigris, beautifully bleached after years in the sun, yet a verdigris with depth, a gorgeous sorbet. It’s a color I’d never tire of (ahem).

Above is a photo from the Web (not the actual car I saw), which I think captures the color. I love how the white convertible top complements the body paint.

I’m sure I could catch a few thieves in this. This car has already stolen my aesthetic heart. My romantic heart beats for Mr. C, of course.