New England’s Metal Tulips
Look in a New England garden this time of year, and you can see them sprouting. Daffodils and tulips. (I think they’re tulips, right? I’m no garden guy.)
Look on the roadways, and it’s metal tulip season. What’s a “metal tulip?”
They’re those little mobile things we call convertibles. At this time of year, they are seen in 35 degree weather like this morning, with the top down, but the windows rolled up and the heat cranked high enough that they create a little pocket of global warming around them. (It’s metal, and it’s bowl-shaped, like a tulip. Work with me here, please.)
I’m not complaining. I see them, and their counterparts, as another sure sign of spring.
Other roadway horticulture:
The two-wheeled thistle: A motorcyclist so bundled up that they look like a puffball riding a bicycle.
The steaming rose: A car with a sunroof open in weather cold enough that you can see the heat exiting the car into the surrounding atmosphere.
Oh, and don’t take pictures of objects in your rear-view mirror while driving. Do as I say…
I want a convertible. I really do. Every time I go to get a new car I think “This is the year I get a ‘vertible.” (Then I think “Is ‘vertible’ a word?”
Then I don’t get one. They’re really absurd to have here. You can use them for, maybe, 25% of the year. They’re an utter waste.
And it’s DEFINITELY my next car.
Safran
April 10, 2008