For the record, Forrest and his compatriots would prefer if you didn’t use the word “frisbee” to describe their favorite pass-time. Normally I’d scoff at such insecurity as would divine to legitimize their sport by preceding the name of their implement with the most superlative superlative they can think of and then beg that you drop the noun it qualifies. But “frisbee” isn’t so much a game you play so much as an activity that accidentally happens while you hang out with some friends. This “ultimate frisbee” is bloodsport by comparison, and not a day goes by without Forrest regaling me with tales of battle and exhibiting his latest war wounds.
Personally, I prefer to grapple with another kind of disc in my free time. My disc is adorned with four interlocking rings and connected to a shaft whose purpose is to transmit my will to a pair of discs before me. See? I’ve already got more discs and I haven’t even mentioned the two in the back yet. In the background of this comic is an artist’s rendition of the Audi that I’ve replaced my Audi with. It’s a 2002 A4 3.0 Quattro with the sport package. My dad gave me a bit of a hard time for not doing something sensible and spending twice as much money on a new Kia Rio or something, but aside from age the Rio ain’t got nothin’ on my six-speed leather sun-roof german.
In nearly every category this silver Audi trumps it’s predecessor. It’s more powerful, sportier, has less kilometerage on the clock, and has revolutionary features like functional door locks, air conditioning, and rear brakes. It gets twenty bonus points for not making Danielle sick every time she rides in it. But one thing it isn’t is prettier. This was a major model change for the A4, and came in just as the SUV was surging in popularity. So it has an extra seven-hundred pounds of safety gear, and doors that look like the hull of a battleship. The whole industry had to redesign their cars to wear their body panels like Steven Urkel wears his pants because a growing number of people were buying cars that are deliberately poorly designed and smashing them into better ones. But we’ve been over this before, and will likely be over it again.
The new car certainly gets the award for silliest luxury feature I’ve ever seen in a sedan. If you fold down the center arm rest in the back seat you can reveal a little panel. On the other side of this panel, in the trunk, is another panel. Between these panels is a folded, well scrunched and stuffed now, sack that extrudes into the car for about four feet. I don’t often need the owner’s manual for a car, but only it could untangle the mystery of this strange device. It’s apparently the “ski-sack”. You can store a pair of skis in the car, taking advantage of the whole length from the end of the bootlid to the stereo, without mussing up the interior. Seriously, I can’t make this up.
Danielle and I tried to use it to haul some wood the other week, but it turns out six feet is too long for the sack to accomodate. Skis are shorter than six feet, I guess? I don’t know. I don’t ski.
All things considered, though, I’m kind of itching to go for a drive, even if it is just up the driveway now that Danielle’s gone to work.
Ja.