Who’s The Old Guy Driving the Red Convertible?

Why is it that whenever  I see a shinny red sports convertible driving down the road it’s driven (a) a man, and (b) he’s got white hair.

No offense to any white-haired men out there driving red sports cars, but…

I rarely see a kid or even a millennial toolin’ down the highway in a jacked up beefed up sports car of any color. It’s almost always a man. An older man.

My first guess is that no one under 60 can even afford an old super sport Vet or a Pontiac GTO. Cars of that vintage are rare and well pampered. Most are lovingly polished and primmed and taken out only on fully sunny days. My second guess is that most millennials haven’t ever heard of a Super Stock Dodge or a 1969 RS/SS Camaro. They’d rather have a  Lexus LS 460 L or any kind of BMW. (In most cases I don’t blame them.)

But back to the little old men.

Why do they get to have all the fun?

You remember Jan and Dean…The Little Old Lady From Pasadena…

The Little Old Lady From Pasadena
(Go Granny, go, Granny, go, Granny, go)
Has a pretty little flowerbed of white gardenias;
(Go Granny, go, Granny, go, Granny, go)
But parked in a rickety old garage,
There’s a brand new shiny super stocked Dodge.

Okay. So here’s a granny. Like me. She probably has a couple of kids and a bunch of grand kids. She’s probably worked all her life as a waitress or a baker or a receptionist. Has a tiny pension and lives in a run-down 80-year-old house. All she’s got are a few scraggly gardenia bushes to make her smile.

And ev’rybody’s sayin’ that there’s nobody meaner than
The Little Old Lady From Pasadena.
She drives real fast and she drives real hard,
She’s the terror of Colorado Boulevard.
It’s The Little Old Lady From Pasadena!

Everybody’s saying there’s nobody meaner. Let them try and figure out Medicare and pay the doctor bills and live on social security and trying to walk around the block with a replaced knee and osteoporosis. It happens to all of us.

If you see her on the strip, don’t try to choose her,
(Go Granny, go, Granny, go, Granny, go)
You might have a go-er, but you’ll never lose her;
(Go Granny, go, Granny, go, Granny, go)
She’s gonna get a ticket now, sooner or later,
‘Cause she can’t keep her foot off the accelerator.

So she speeds a little bit. Isn’t it better than following those old fogies that drive 20 miles under the speed limit? Have you ever been behind a driver on the country roads that slow down and look at every field, every farm, every animal? Heck — I’m married to one.

You’ll see her all the time, just gettin’ her kicks now,
(Go Granny, go, Granny, go, Granny, go)
With her four speed stick and a four – two – six now;
(Go Granny, go, Granny, go, Granny, go)
The guys come to race her from miles around,
But she’ll give ’em a length, then she’ll shut’em down.

By the time you get to my age, you get tired of all the bull$hit in the world. You get tired of your taxes going up, gas prices, mortgages, and insurance payments.. You drive home from a rough day at work and all you want to do is freebird the ride home. You’re leavin’ the 9-5 behind! Freedom! Fresh air! Who cares if you’re only going home to catch up on Breaking Bad reruns?

So back to the original statement. White haired old men driving spiffy red convertibles. You may look sexy, you may look debonair, you may have earned that red Corvette convertible you strut around town with.

But just wait. Granny and her red convertible Vespa will be right on your tail.

(Go Granny, go, Granny, go, Granny, go)