Bornfamous

I turned 60 a couple of weeks ago, and I can feel the pangs of another mid-life crisis coming on. Except we’re past the midpoint now, aren’t we? Whatever. Number One Son and his wife urged me to get a tattoo or have my nose pierced for my birthday, but I wasn’t interested. Then one of them mentioned spinners.

“Spinners!” I cried. “I’ve always wanted spinners!” And it was agreed that they would get some of those flashy, spinning hubcaps for my rather stuffy Volvo station wagon, Brigitte [named after that other big, blonde Scandinavian, Brigitte Nielsen].

But after thinking about it for a few days, I decided that I could use a back massager more. Must be practical, you know. My back hasn’t stopped hurting just because I’ve graduated from physical therapy. And there’s the embarrassment factor to think about as well, after paying closer attention to the drivers of spinner-trimmed cars on El Cajon Boulevard. Let’s just say I don’t fit the profile.

Then I came across this wonderful video of pinstripers at work and remembered another fantasy: Wouldn’t it be cool to pimp Brigitte out with painted flames across the hood? With spinners, of course.

Totally. All I’d need is a back-massaging cushion, and I’d be ready to rumble.