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Traffic Signals
I pulled up behind a pretty nice Hyundai SUV in Brentwood and admired it from behind. I had to stop whistling at cars after #metoo, but let me tell you… these curves were something else!
Suddenly, I noticed the car’s emblem, and my fingernails dug into the steering wheel.
The car was actually a Porsche.
What was I thinking? How embarrassing!
It took me ten more minutes before I came to grips with the mindmelt. The car looked great when it represented reliability and a good value. But knowing its true identity made me spittin’ mad.
I calmed down and realized I knew what this was really about. I was having a spiritual encounter on Concord Road that evening. Thank you, Jesus, for SHOWING NOT TELLING me to get my ass back in the gym. I don’t know what these car designers were thinking, but the Porsche I saw was unrecognizable to the brand, and so am I.
My body may have morphed into a Hyundai, but you can mark my words: I will turn this skin suit into one that resembles my favorite luxury vehicle, the Jaguar XJS convertible.
Just give me till the tail end of 2024. We’ll respectfully objectify my shredded triceps and the craftsmanship of our Lord. Until then, mass will be reduced daily at the kettle bells. Amen.
Round Up Some Funny
I’m sorry to do this to you, but you’re going to have to watch this bit and never look at your “identity” the same way again. You can’t unsee it!
Here’s May Martin on Instagram.
Traffic Signals