*Warning: Talking about my (new--to me) car may be one of the most narcissist, image-centric, self-serving things that I do. Please excuse me...or don't.
So you may or may not know that I've recently become the owner of a 2002 Mini Cooper S. Errrr...or at least I'm provisionally the owner.
(The title kind of sort of maybe got lost in the mail, so I haven't been able to register it in my name yet. Please don't tell the Massachusetts RMV--or the Colorado DMV for that matter--that I drove across the country on the old owner's plates. Thanks.)
Anyways, in my few days as a Mini Cooper owner/driver (provisionally, at least), I've come to the conclusion that people drive Mini Coopers because they like to feel special and unique. (Yes, that includes me. I guess you could argue that feeling special is really all that anyone wants, but let's save that conversation for later...)
When you drive a car that is bright yellow and looks like a toy, you don't feel quite as conspicuous as if you were driving a space shuttle* down the highway, but it's close. So when, biking to school, you see three other yellow Mini Coopers zipping along the streets of Boulder, you can't help but scrutinize them.
Two were what I like to refer to as "lemon custard" (like mine--it's a paler, more pastel shade of yellow), one with a black top and one with a lemon custard top--and neither with racing stripes. One was Heinz mustard yellow, with a white top and white racing stripes (like mine). So, all four yellow cars are--nonetheless--unique in their own way. (But mine is the best, of course.)
Hence my conclusion that Mini Cooper have a compulsion to be special. And that's all I have to say about that...you can now return to your regularly scheduled car-free day.
*I'm still getting my Hood to Coast wrap-up post ready, but in case you hadn't heard yet, our vans were decorated like space shuttles: Discovery and Columbia. And yes, the Columbia did crash--but it was "just a flesh wound."