I stopped to admire an older black Cadillac on a side street this week. It was very long, with wire wheels and the sort of upholstery you don't see much anymore. There was some wear in the paint, but under the parkway tree it looked rather grand.
I wondered whether we had become too particular about having everything new. I would have been very happy arriving in that car. Someone’s husband came past and told me it was technically an Oldsmobile Cutlass. I had already decided it was a Cadillac, which is how I will remember seeing it.
The car behind it was less successful. Its bumper was attached by a cable, and the license plate said SEX. I checked twice.
I don't know which part of the plate application requires an explanation, but I would be interested in reading that one. I stayed long enough to get both cars in the photograph.