how sweet it is

I have never had a problem with beer in Wisconsin. In fact, I can’t say I’ve had a bad beer up here.

But as I left for work, I saw a light.  A spark.  A sign that our neighborhood — and Madison as a whole — is becoming more progressive…

The Laurel finally moves into the 21st Century.

Welcome Fat Tire.

I already know I’m going to have to give up my car soon.  I always meant to take good care of it, but I really haven’t.  To wit:

– I can no longer turn the ventilation from defrost to floor…that knob is broken.  I used to have a pair of pliers to turn the bar that was left, but eventually I broke that off too.

– The panel on the driver’s door has fallen off.  The passenger’s side panel wants to fall off, but it hasn’t built up the nerve yet.  It’s only half fallen off.

– My back passenger’s window stopped working.  I was ok with that, until it began to lower itself slowly without the pushing of buttons.  It used to stay up if I pushed it up, but it doesn’t any more.  It was duct taped up for a long time, but now I’ve moved to clear tape to keep it up, which is only slightly less embarrassing, especially because the duct tape residue is still very evident.

– I keep a Dawg Head facing out my back window.  I’ve only met one other person who thinks that’s a good idea.

It makes me sad, because the car kinda sucks now, but I love it.  I’ve not found a car more fun to drive.  Apparently that doesn’t make up for embarrassing everyone who rides in it.

And now I know it’s going away forever.  I love my Pontiac…but they are all going away on a somber and sad note.  It makes me sad to think that my generation didn’t love them as I did, and apparently, find them as other generations did.

I still have a picture somewhere of me, as a 4-year-old, sitting in KITT from Knight Rider.  And I doubt anyone my age will really cry over the demise of the Pontiac.  But I am sad, just a little, to know when my car is done, that there will be no more Pontiacs.  Ever.  No KITTS (with William Daniels as my navigator), no noisy Trans Ams, no matronly Bonnevilles, no unnecessary Azteks.  But I’ll miss them all same.