Elemental

So, last week whilst vacationing in wet and chilly Indianapolis, I got m'self a new car. A Kiwi-Metallic Honda Element LX.

Here's the thing that rocks. Imagine if you will, a world where everything is built for the average sized person, except your size is... above average. Not insanely above average, but pretty well above. Imagine everything in your life was replaced with a mock-up of the exact same item at 91% of its original size. This isn't really enough to make your life an Andre-the-Giant type of Johnathan Swift nightmare, but you'd feel cramped everywhere you went.

I have drank the nectar of the Ents.

So I went from driving my '95 Civic, which I piloted while cocking (I said it) my head at a thirty-seven degree angle to navigate the very roof, to my 2K6 Element which is really into giving me my space. It reminded me of Ron Howard's opus, Night Shift, where Henry Winkler's character traded in the smothering fiancee for the welcoming love of a whore. She knows just how I like it. With lots of... headroom.

Furthermore, the Element has no carpet for me to spill coffee and diet coke into; I can hose it out if I like. Again - whore-like.