I've always been a bit over the top. Whether
due to my sartorial swagger or overt gourmet
tendencies I over indulge in just about if not
everything. And while I've never been a jock
or motor head, I've always had a fondness for
fast men and even faster automobiles. After
many years of being barely able to pay my
way I slowly hit my stride until I was finally
to buy the type of vehicle I really liked. More
than simple conveyances my adored Jaguars
have been the ultimate of indulgences. After
all, can one ever have too much of a fabulous
thing? Exactly when is enough... enough?
I adore my car. And while it's an
anomaly in central Montana I can't
let go of it even if I should. Given
the nearest Jaguar dealership is in
Calgary, Alberta - seven hours for
an oil change is reason to put the
brakes on. Equally foolish is any
mode of transportation that has to
hibernate during winter. Thus I've
often considered whether I should
relinquish the keys and trade it in
for something more practical. My
problem is... I can't or won't do it.
Obviously like most gluttons, I can't get
enough of what I really don't need. And
so I'm holding onto my past imperfect.
Theres no doubt that I'll never replace
my dream car. However it's quite likely
that I may be driving my current model
well into my eighties. Much like Gloria
Swanson in Sunset Boulevard, I could
end up being a traveling freak show on
Main Street. The truth is that as a gay
man I'm more than familiar with being
an oddity. As a literal freak of nature
I've become blind to all of the stares.
Theres no doubt that our car gets most of
the attention. Such unwanted ardor can be
bothersome. This weekend we took a trip
out of town to southwestern Montana,
Unlike our home turf, the folks there know
what we're driving. Thus we garnered more
than our share of stares as we ruled the fast
lane. Sadly that included being pulled over
twice by the fuzz. You see, much to our
surprise our registration had expired. And
so the boys had a reason to pull us over to
give us and our Jaguar to once over. Talk
about a moving violation. YES OFFICER!
While I appreciate attention from a
handsome hunk in uniform, it was
all an unfortunate mistake. After we
moved our mail was forwarded for
at least six months. Our registration
renewal must have arrived after that
date and was returned to sender. As
nobody checks their license plates
but cops, how were we supposed to
know we'd expired?! Thus we've
been innocently driving with 2015
plates for months. And while quite
naive - we were guilty as charged.
One must admit we deserved it. If one
drives about in a differentiated mode of
transportation you're apt to get in trouble.
In Montana anything beyond a pickup
garners glares. Which highlights the sad
fact that I'm oblivious to any difference
between us and the balance of Montana.
Let's face facts, two gay men dressed to
the hilt driving about in a luxe car makes
us if nothing else an easy target. Thus it
may be a miracle that we haven't been
shot, robbed, or... well let's not think of
that. Maybe we should tone it down?!
The problem is we can't do that. This
extrovert naturally assumes he owns
the joint. While living in Manhattan
we were minnows swimming with
the big fishes. However we learned to
posture to our best advantage. Given
perception is reality, as Montanans it's
time to face facts. When not on our
home turf, we must be mindful that
others are watching. This morning I'm
going up to the courthouse to update
our address and plates. From here on
we are playing by the rules of the road!
