My name is Lee and I’m a gasaholic.
I first became aware of my addiction at age 16, when I would sit and look through color pictures of Ferrarris, Porsches and even American muscle cars such as the Ford Mustang. My mouth would be dry and I would sit and image myself at the wheel. I would lay awake at night and dream of the touch of the leather, the smoothness of the walnut interiors and the sheer excitement of pedal to the metal.
In those days, having a desire for excess horsepower was not seen as an assault against Mother Nature, and only the insurance companies had seen the light and were penalizing the few that dared to bring their fetish out into the light and puchase one of these gasoline and tire devouring monsters.
Of the British cars, those that drove minis, except for the hallowed Cooper S, were thought of as strange, and you wouldn’t invite them to your next Poker Party. You might allow them to date your sister, as they were safe. As for the other British cars of that time period, only the Jag stood out. I was a fan of horsepower, sheer unadulterated vehicular testosterone.
But time has passed, and awareness of all things environmental has been raised by the great prophet Gore. Our children have been brought up to see and point out our errors as teachers have instilled the virtues of tropical rainforests, their sacred duty to conserve fossil fuels and to turn off lights. PETA has lectured them on the cruelty to animals involvd in Connolly leather upholstery, and the potential for insect injury if an innocent fly hits your windshield at high speed. Local politicians have declared total war on the car, under the guise of reverence for public transport, and even Hollywood celebrities in their constant search for the next social mission are driving around in electric or hybrid cars.
So the kids are against me, the politicians are against me, the celebrities are against me, the teachers are against me, PETA are against me and horror of horrors Al Gore is against me.
You know what – at least I’m honest about my fun. Al Gore jets around the planet preaching conservation, yet has a carbon footprint the size of Manhatten. We see politicians preaching what is good for you, whilst fiddling their expenses and being chauffeured around in limosines. PETA are a bunch of crackpots that can ignore all of the suffering in the world to save a butterfly, and children are easy marks for social engineering. Hollywood celebrities conventiently forget to mention their second cars are Hummers or Maybachs.
My name is Lee, I’m a gasaholic and proud of it