I don't want to be morbid, but I am a practical man. You kids will recall that Lori and I have spent far too much time moving from place to place in our married life. I believe the last count was five homes and three states in the last six years.
When we moved four times ago, into the home where we planned to spend the rest of our days, I was so adamant about never moving again that I fully intended to pass away the night before trash day, so Lori could just throw me in a Hefty Tear-Pruf Heavy Duty trash bag and drag me to the curb.
The more I think about it, though, I'd like to go with style.
What prompted this?
We saw this on our weekend drive.
Far be it for me to judge (a lie: I always judge. Call me Judgey McJudgerson.), but I am not a soccer mom. I don't want to be a soccer mom. I don't want my last ride in a wheeled conveyance to include stow-and-go seating. I don't want anyone to be picking Cheerios and gummi bears from out of my coffin, and I don't want it covered in sticky handprints and Sponge Bob paraphernalia.
(Are the kids still watching Sponge Bob? I'm so out of touch.)
I like the Cadillac in life, and to me, that's the classic way to go.
Or, there's always this:
And for the Harold and Maude fans out there, I could settle for this:
...and really, who couldn't? Your last car should always be nicer than your first, right?
And because I ride, and there's just as much a chance that I'll go that way as any other rider, I'd take this, too.
Because just because I'm not cool in life doesn't mean my last act above ground has to be equally nerdy.
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6 comments:
I loved the Jaguar/hearse in Harold and Maude.
I have to disagree about the Cheerios and gummy bears in the coffin, though. I want them in there, you know, just in case I'm not really dead.
Funny. But the hefty bag is my choice.
E - I suppose it will depend on how I'm feeling when it finally comes time. Since I'm usually so cheap I squeak, Hefty works well for me. Even double-bagged, I'm a bargain.
Frank, somehow having 37 calories to hold me over until the afterlife isn't comforting. And I've never been able to pace myself.
hmmmmmmmm...and how, exactly, would the gummy bears and Cheerios make their way INTO the coffin, Frank? Now that would be freaky. Maybe there is still a troublesome youngster hiding in the back of that mini-van...
Good point, Anonymous. I'd better go check....
Hey Elliott! Long time! Love the Hefty bag idea. Then again....those cars are snazzy!
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