Corvette summer

On Sunday we headed out to Spruce Grove to visit my parents for breakfast. It was a perfect cloudless day, so we took Trish's baby, a dark red 1987 Corvette convertible. I drove.

Now, I've never put much stock in the idea the auto companies would have us believe, the idea that driving a vehicle somehow equals freedom. In fact, between the payments, the price of gas, the regularly scheduled maintenance and the regularly unscheduled repair bills, owning a car is pretty far from free.

But lemme tellya, when I opened it up to blow by a Miata like it was standing still, feeling the wind rush and the V8 rumble, I was laughing like a little kid.

If sports-car marketers ever figure out a way to capture a moment like that in an ad, sports-car makers will never be able to keep up.