Week 90: Nissan 370Z

A bright, bright red Nissan tiny car.

 I drove an actual bright red Nissan once (many years ago before my three youngest sons were born), although only a Sentra and nothing flashy like the toy above.

My Sentra was a two-year leased vehicle, the only time I have ever leased, and that four-door was like my youngest son -- prone to constant scrapes and accidents.

I'll admit some of the mishaps were my fault like the fender bender or the ticket, but most of them were out of my control. Shopping carts would blow into it, the outside mirrors were knocked off not once but twice when I wasn't around, branches fell on it, stuff flew off trucks on the highway onto its hood, even birds targeted it to poop.

Gratefully, birds do not routinely poop on my son, but for every Band-aid my son has worn it seems my bright red Nissan had a matching ding, bump, or scrape.

A pity, too, because I liked that car, and every problem with it had nothing to do with the car itself.

In fairness to the comparison, though, my son is not so blameless, and most of his scrapes are directly related to his adventurous spirit, something my Nissan did not have. While well built and comfortable, that car, besides its flashy color, was about as plain as can be, kind of just a car, no extras, no fancy dashboard styling (although Nissan's have since changed), nothing bold. Just a solid reliable car.

I could never picture my Nissan jumping off the back of the couch, battling Star Wars-style with sharp sticks in the yard with its brother, or attempting to climb all the unclimbable things my son has attempted to climb. My Nissan would not grab a siblings arms and spin around in the middle of my living room and then shout, "Okay, let go! Let's FALL!!"

A few weeks ago I went to a store with my three sons to allow my middle school-age son to cash in a gift card he had received at Christmas. While walking through the toy department my youngest found the super hero helmets. Putting on a Thor helmet, he encountered another toddler wearing a Captain America helmet and holding a plastic shield. Reaching to the nearby rack Baby G grabbed a plastic Thor hammer, and, going up to the other little boy, said, "Okay. Now you throw your Captain America shield at me as hard as you can."

My Nissan would never have done that. My Sentra never would have even tried on a Thor helmet.

Luckily, the other little boy's father thwarted Captain America, and we both agreed that asking to throw the shield was one of those decisions that probably sounded much better than it actually would have been.

Nonetheless, I admire and am constantly entertained, if not frequently terrified by, my son's boldness.

Good thing, too. He's not a two-year lease.

Photo, and car, courtesy of Phil Pekarcik.