Birthday Boy

He was 23 years old when I met him. We were both graduate students, and we carpooled together to the university, either in my little grey car or in his old white Mercedes. He had a thing for old cars and 18th century Russian poets, and though I couldn't quite feign interest in either of those things, I still thought he might be a keeper.

Dang if that wasn't two decades ago.

From the Mercedes he moved on to an Austin Healey Sprite. Did I even spell that right? It was cute, and blue, and he sold it when we got married so we could buy a grown-up car together - something a bit more sensible. You know, with air bags. And seat belts. And working brakes. He's been trolling the internet ever since, looking for a new (old) car to feed his obsession.

He just celebrated his birthday, and it's taken him two whole decades of togetherness to realize that I am a terrible gift giver. So this year, he took matters into his own hands and bought his own present. And indeed, it's much special-er than the watch I got him. Here it is:





The car is currently in Virginia. That's right, he never got to see it in real life, but then again, he is of the blogger generation. Who needs real life when you've got the internet? I believe the car is going to go live with Uncle Sean in Los Angeles until we return to the States... in 2013? 2014? 2016? No one knows, exactly. But there is a car. And it is his.

Happy birthday, z. I still think you're a keeper.