Earlier this evening while driving my brother back from one of his final college classes of the semester, I started talking about how much I wanted a convertible. Everywhere I go I’ve been driving with the sunroof open and one hand sticking out of the top of my car, just hoping to catch a glimpse of that feeling of freedom and openness. I’ve noticed that lately, being inside a beautifully insulated BMW feels a bit too much like I’m playing a video game. I’m not really driving, I’m not really interacting with the world, I’m just driving through a simulation. But a convertible opens you up to the environment as you drive right through it. You feel the wind in your hair, you hear the sounds of nature and/or a busy highway, and all of this equals a certain sense of fun and peace. I miss that and dang it, I want it back.

    As I was explaining this to my brother I confessed that, as much as I love my beautiful Z4 baby, I wouldn’t mind having just a simple little Z3 if it meant having a convertible at long last. At precisely that moment, a dark pewter Z4 drove by, as if to remind me with its deep throaty inline 6, “You don’t really want that little put-put car – it may be cute, but I’m nothin’ but raw power, baby! Grroooowwl!”

    I started to giggle at the coincidence and exclaimed, “Every time I think of a BMW, a Z4 goes by!” When I voiced my assumtion that the Z4’s apparition was a reminder of what my heart truly desires, what happens? A cute little black Z3 rolls by, this time uttering, “Oh yes, you really want a Z4, but is being cute and petite really such a bad thing? Vrrrooooom, teehee!”

    Now not only am I conflicted about my convertibles, but I’m extremely worried that these machines are talking to me. Whatever is a girl to do? Maybe if I buy both they’ll just shut up and drive… 🙂