How hard is it to say thank you?
More specifically, how hard is it to say thank you on the roadway?
All it takes is that split-second wave in front of your rearview mirror.
Yet for the overwhelming majority of motorists, that’s a bridge too far.
The other day, I said goodbye to my old car.
Yesterday, my wife and I bought a new one. And today, for the first time, I drove my new car to work.
It was a nerve-wracking experience.
A man and his car.
It’s a relationship as symbiotic as peanut butter and chocolate.
One of the classic images of Americana is a guy in his driveway, a beer in one hand, a wrench in the other, working under the hood on a Saturday afternoon.
I’m a simple guy, and I love the simple things.
And when it comes to my Mount Rushmore of meals, it doesn’t get much simpler than cacio e pepe.
It’s always disappointing — if not a little soul-crushing — when the highlights of your youth don’t hold up to the scrutiny of adulthood.
Thankfully, the opposite happened with my most recent screening of the original “Point Break.”