Early this afternoon I went for a drive in my Lincoln Aviator. In playful construct I have fashioned that the characterizing name “Aviator” is by entire serendipity reflective of my late father’s history as a pilot; and, that the “Lincoln” feature similarly reflects my late paternal grandfather’s passion for fine automobiles (as my grandmother advised, they needed a Packard limousine for their seven children). As for my contribution to this fabrication it ironically reflects its own “tangible” singularity; namely, not only the bloodline between us but also a motoring passion that was elemental to each of us (all of whom by further coincidence have “George” in their names). This sufficiently buoys the underlying theme; namely, that the Lincoln Aviator is an automobile of distinct and quality dimension. And with this too I would agree.

The dramatization, while it affords a new level of intimacy between my father, my grandfather and me and while it admittedly incorporates a sense of cryptic alliance among us, the missing observation is that my preference beyond flying and automobiles is sailing. This “refinement” is purely imaginary. It does however blend with my pot of imaginative soil. Escaping on the highway in a fine automobile is my idea of sailing. No need to worry about tempests or tea pots. Indeed it is quite possible that the capacity for governance is one of the allures – translated to the mechanical superlatives of precision, alignment and power. Most recently I have taken to driving with the windows down and the landau roof open. This hitherto uncommon display of vigour gives me the exuberant appeal of the blustery wind on the high seas but without the splash.  I reckon that at this level of comparison, the difference between sailing and flying is negligible. Perhaps the relevant distinction is that I know how to drive a car but I do not know how to fly a plane.

The current love affair between me and the Lincoln Aviator has lately undergone a short-lived furtive contest by the new Ford Mustang Mach-E. Like any other old fogey, the attraction to me was nothing more than a glimpse at the passing chimera. It will require considerably more legitimacy to this passing ship before I ask to go aboard. This morning I spoke with a senior advisor at the dealership who essentially said the Mach-E is a good vehicle but not one for which our country is yet designed.  By comparison he spoke of the Californian provision of charging stations. If the vehicle is only good for 400 kms without charging, there are obvious limitations. Certainly for people such as we who cover wide swaths of land, the traditional gasoline-fuelled automobile is suggested.

What however betrays a more pressing evolution is the eventual need – assuming as always that we even get there – of an electric bicycle, a motorized walking assist, an electric whatever to do whatever. On the horizon is the fateful day when my driver’s licence is taken from me by a scrupulous medical physician.  I have no problem with that predictable declension; but I don’t intend to abandon my amusement with mobility. Aside from the electric bike, I am interested in scooters as well. I am inclined to think that the people in the medical device business have created an array of choices for this widening demographic called old age. Until the precise moment of need however I shall devote myself to the current vehicular model for purposes of sailing.