I'm not a car guy. When I had my mid-life crisis and looked around for something to fill the aching void (actually it was more stabbing than aching -- but never mind) within, I didn't turn to cars. The thing I added to my somehow lacking life? Well, stamps, of course.
Now that I'm in my sixth decade, I'm happy to note they say sixty is the new forty. And that's fine by me -- hopefully the number will continue to go down, until I have to show proof again to buy a bottle of wine and the ghost of my father tells me to "turn that damn music down!" In any event, I try to avoid things that might bring on the feeling of the onset of the twilight years. I know a younger generation is having its own Twilight years, but that involves pop culture vampires. I may be getting long in the tooth, but I won't bite you. And that red stuff I'm drinking? It's tomato juice, I swear.
So, I looked at the first news of release of 2013 stamps from the USPS with some horror: birds (swallow, puffin, humingbirds), baskets (I'm sure I'll be a master weaver when the time comes for my move to "the home" -- but it's not here yet), apples (...zzzzzzzz...) and flowers.
Luckily, before family members eyeing the old stamp collector (Me!?) came to cover me with an afghan and offer a nice cup of hot tea...Muscle Cars! I've never been so happy to see cars in my life, even if they are just on stamps from the USPS. Oooh and Modern Art. That's OK too, as the real oldsters don't get it -- their loss -- and opt for pictures of kids in soda shops and grandpas fishing, preferably limned by Norman Rockwell.
So, hey kids, don't try to book me into the Golden Memories Happy Home yet.
Anyway, right now I've got to lay down some rubber and make it to the art museum before it closes. I've heard they've got a wild Picasso exhibit. Yeah... Wild, man.
Stamp sheet image © USPS