Smug

As I mentioned a couple posts ago, I’ve been bothered by our air here in the Salt Lake valley. It came to a head last month when I realized that I’d just told my kids they couldn’t go out and jump on the tramp because there was a health advisory out against unnecessary breathing out of doors, as ironic as that sounds. So I decided to so something to alleviate my guilt a bit and recently bought a hybrid.

I typically don’t much care about cars; that’s Rob’s thing. I must admit, however, that I like this car in a way that’s given me a glimpse into what it’s like to be a car lover. Most of the things I really like about it are things I never really considered to be a plus on a vehicle. It’s doesn’t have much power, but I like that it has a jack for my ipod so that I don’t have to monkey with those sketchy FM transmitters. It looks like it’s about to give birth to a riding lawnmower, but I like having a Bluetooth connection to my phone so that I can look cool/insane talking into the air in an empty car. But more than I could have ever possibly anticipated, I really enjoy not having to use a car key anymore. You just get in and push a button. I had no idea how unhappy reaching into my pockets had made me all these years.

What I did, admittedly, anticipate was the benefit of having a driver’s side ego-inflator.

I’m doing something for the planet… by driving… burning gas still… but Yeah for me!! I’ll take that extra trip to the grocery store :-).

I know I shouldn’t use the ego-inflator too often—it’s not real, and it’s certainly a waste of resources—but… but it’s a temptation that hangs in the air of this car right with that new car smell (which is probably a cocktail of volatile carcinogens, carcinogens that smell nice). It’s like an added feature, as comforting as having heated seats in the winter.

Must… resist… singing…



There but for the grace of God go I.