Roadsters and Elves

In my garage are housed several exquisite automobiles, none of which has any practical value, and often in my predawn boredom I will go out and look at them and even caress them. Unshaven and with a green faerie in my hand, I dress in my vintage racing overalls and my favourite Tag Heuer chronograph and marvel at the beautiful engineering of my gasoline chariots whilst dreaming of being a playboy racer circa 1966. I am not exaggerating when I say that many of my cars excite me sexually; most notable of these are my roadsters. My faithful readers are likely aware of a grayscale photograph in which I am leaning against a charming little pocket rocket, cigarette in hand, but I must say I trashed that car earlier this year going too fast down Snake Hill, and it was no great loss. It was a mere Japanese plaything used mostly on the (not infrequent) occasions when I was too drunk to drive the good ones. My real babies are my Lotuses and Alfas. For day-to-day driving, I have a '63 Elan (yellow), and for the days I hope to seduce Mrs. Robinson (or any other unsatisfied, married woman, for that matter), I have a red '67 Alfa Spider. I also have a lovely blue Lotus 7 that I won in a duel (or perhaps I stole it--I honestly don't remember that night particularly well).



At 4:00 this morning I decided to take the 7 for a spin. I drove out along a winding country road to a spot where legend says the Hidden Folk play and whore until the sun rises. Though objectively not particularly fast, the car sounds, feels, and handles as though it were a fucking Type 35 Bugatti. Upon arriving at the supposedly magical cave, I parked and turned off my roadster's lights and suckled upon my flask of Johnnie Walker Black while watching the sun rise over the hills. I turned on the radio and listened to some strange music played only for the sad and lonely (perhaps the elves had a little FM transmitter in their cave?). It was too late for spotting elves, but I didn't care. I was enveloped in beauty and oblivion. All my thoughts were dead.