“My dad told me everyone needs to own a convertible once in their lifetime,” said my friend (also named Jeff) and I think he’s right.
A sporty convertible when you’re young and single.
A fun convertible to take on picnics.
A large boat-y convertible to take the kids out on a Sunday joyride.
A collector convertible to take your sweetie out for ice cream on a warm summer night.
I admit, I would never have taken this advice if it my dad hadn’t decided he could no longer drive his little red Miata. He gave it to me, and for weeks I practiced hopping in with just the right amount of devil-may-care attitude needed for the maneuver. And I have promised to pass it on someday to my daughter Madeline, the only one with the courage to master a stick shift.
That’s the funny thing about convertibles. They belong to a season of life—not your whole life. That means there’s probably one right now that fits your price range. And you will drive it until you are disgusted with its impracticality or because you don’t have any more space to store it. And then you will sell it or pass it along to a delighted person who has plans in mind and a one-sentence piece of wisdom:
“Everyone needs to own a convertible once in their lifetime.”