A Singular Case of Mutton Dressed as Lamb
Ever noticed people who drives a Ferrari? They are either partially bald, grey haired or one with a back ache who soaks his denture in a glass of water before going to bed. Before disagree, yes, I admit there are some young chaps that go around town in one. The question is; HOW MANY?
Let us envisage owning a Ferrari, driving around dressed in fine tailored suit and a passenger that is silicone formed with legs that stretches as long as the North-South Motorway with intent to attract loads of attention. Upon reaching our destination, we’ll descend from the Ferrari in a very formulaic manner. That is;
- Very slowly
- Turning around slowly to face the crowd or on lookers.
- Putting on a A STERN LOOKING FACE while shutting the door.
Now, based on that envisage, answer this;
- Did you envy people buying shampoo and those that are able to visit hair salons?
- Had you taken Nurofen to mask those aching back after driving about in them sports suspension?
- Had documents pertaining to your death wishes prepared at Rockwills.
There you go. You did picture yourself young, owning a lush mane, pearly white set of choppers, well dressed, flashing them Swiss made Hublot about, top echelon of some big time conglomerate, flourishing bank account, socko in the share market and could endure a hardcore party all night long.
Sadly, the majority of Ferrari owners are people from the ‘age challenged’ pool. At some point in life, they decide to have something called ‘Mid-Life Crisis’ and then splash a fortune on one of them Prancing Horses, only to find out that their backs can’t take the stiff suspension settings, their heart can’t take sub-five seconds car and suddenly realise that their reaction time has slowed so much to the point where they miss junctions on an alarming rate.
Still, they are proud owners of fine tuned vehicle from the Ferrari stable, walking around town feeling mighty biggity. But they forget, it is the car that is attractive and not them as owners. They have made the Ferrari an OAP flagship.
I must say, a Ferrari is not my cup of tea. No. By being an owner of one, I have become a liar. A liar to myself. I deny the fact that I am old. I can’t accept that I’m on a journey towards senile territory. I own a Ferrari to lie to my self telling me I am still young. I think I am young but I’m not. The Ferrari will make me think I look young, but I am not.
It is like a woman who puts on make up. Those that are not so beautiful, they become acceptable looking, while those who are beautiful they morph into something phenomenal. A minger however needs multiple plastic surgery.
Hence, driving a Ferrari doesn’t make you young.
This is not a story about ‘The Fox and the Sour Grape” but of
“Mutton Dressed as Lamb”
