Jan 30, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
I noticed it this afternoon after leaving work and dropping off the daily deposit at the bank.
It was sleek and looked pretty new. The color was a silver grey with a black top. Shiny wheels accented the already sporty look.
The look of the BMW spoke words on it's owner. Words to mind were like affluent, rich, or lovers of fine things. The driver probably wearing a pressed shirt and slacks, his hair finely combed and trimmed. He might even be to the hair groomers every other week.
I could picture him on a warm summer morning on the deck of his house up on the hill, sitting out on his deck that looked out over the mountains, sipping on a latte and reading his morning Wall Street Journal.
I could see him dining on the finest steaks and sipping the finest wines. He would be a good tipper also probably laying down a 20 or so for a good meal.
But not today. For there was a reason that he stood out so much today. It wasn't the crisp freshly washed lines or the fact that it stood out greatly between the two other dingy minivans that it was in line with. Or the fact that you could see that the driver and his lady both looked so well off compared to the overweight lady in the car on one side and the rowdy family of rug rats on the other.
For, it was where it was at that made it stick out like a veritable sore thumb. As I was leaving the bank just as he was touching the button and hearing the words, "Welcome to McDonalds. May I take your order?"