The first thing I saw at the Cleveland Auto Show was a dog. It wasn’t a service dog, it wasn’t a therapy dog. It was just a dog. A rust-colored, poodle-looking, plain old dog.
I’m never going to get used to people bringing their dog with them to public places. I’m just not.
The second thing I saw at the Cleveland Auto Show was a couple of old guys eating ice cream cones which immediately made me think, “Where can I get an ice cream cone?
The third thing I saw at the Cleveland Auto Show was people carrying around tallboys of Yuengling (beer) because, really, who doesn’t want to waste a gorgeous Saturday afternoon getting hammered and staring at cars at the Cleveland I-X Center?
What I did not see at the Cleveland Auto Show was masks. So, I guess the pandemic is over? Yes? No? Who fuckin’ knows.
Personally, I wore a mask because I am never, ever going to catch any sort of airborne viral illness ever again in my lifetime. I haven’t had a cold in over two years and I am ecstatic. Plus I don’t have to wear makeup anymore, so screw personal freedoms. I’m wearing a mask.
Once I got around to actually focusing on the “auto” part of “auto show”, I made a beeline for the Ford section where I proceeded to lose my shit.
A 2022 Ford Escape is allegedly being built for me, somewhere — maybe in Kentucky, maybe in Tibet, I have no idea — because you can’t just go buy a car anymore. You have to place an order and then sacrifice a goat and hope that the car gods hear your prayers.
Sorry, goat, but mama needs a new Escape.
The problem is that my precious Escape, a model to which I have been unwaveringly loyal lo these many years, is now a fun-sized piece of crap that doesn’t even have a gear shift.
Excuse my language, but what the absolute fuck?
(A) Did somebody leave the Escape in the dryer too long or what? Where’s the rest of it? It looks like a Shrinky Dink.
And (2) what genius at the Ford Motor Company decided to eliminate one of the great joys of driving, which is taking that gear shifter in your hand and feeling, for the tiniest of split-seconds, that you’re…