I don't know why I own a car

The last time I drove my car was I don't know when.  Thank God I've got off-street parking, because downtown Trojan street parking regulations are draconian.  Deeply misguided is a term that also jumps to mind.

And even though it's a Mercedes, I find myself rooting for Ferrari, not the Merc-powered McLarens in the Grands Prix.  So what's with that?

I think this whole car business has something to do with living in New York for so long.  You just resist getting in the car and going someplace unless you have to.  Movies jump to mind.  Troy's one failing is that you pretty much have to get in a car and drive to a suburban multiplex to see a movie.  Which, really, isn't like going to the dentist.  Or for a colonoscopy.  It's just not that big a deal.  Fifteen minutes and you're there!

All this by way of saying I don't know why I haven't gone to see the Gatsby movie.  I wonder if it's even still there.  But somebody wrote me from Australia earlier today and said he'd like to buy a print of this ...

Dammit!  I should turn off my computer and just go see that movie right now.

Right ho, Old Sport.
Exactly.