The Perfect Sunday

“It will do 140,” I said, hopefully being honest with a figure I dimly remember. “Faster than I want to go.” Much faster than I’ve ever gone.

Not a lot of you are reading this today (Sunday). I understand why. We’re on our eighth or ninth consecutive day of exceptional weather. This can’t last, nor would we want it to. For now… wow!

I went and visited my friend Rick this afternoon. On my way back, as I got settled in the car he asked, “How many horsepower?”

My car is 9 years old, but it still looks good.

“It will do 140,” I said, hopefully being honest with a figure I dimly remember&#185. “Faster than I want to go.” Much faster than I’ve ever gone.

I pushed the switch in the center console forward. Inside, a red bulb lit and the switch began to glow. Servos started whirring in the door panels and trunk.

The windows rolled down, got to their stop position and whirred a little more just to make sure they were set. Then, a metal cover behind the seats flipped up and the roof began to fold itself and slide into the trunk.

Within seconds, it was done. My car had become a convertible with no outward sign a roof has ever been there.

It’s only a few miles from Rick’s house to here. Today, I wish it was farther. The weather was perfect.

I was prepared to turn on the heater (and the heat in the seats), but instead actually kept the windows down and let the breeze blow through the car.

On a day like today, this time of the year, there’s no place nicer than Connecticut. I wish it could be this way all the time. I’ll take what I can get.

&#185 – It is actually 143 mph.

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