Parking in front of her house. I said I could practice driving very slowly in front of her house and she could practice jumping out of a slowly moving car. She didn't like the idea. She's conventional. So I parked the car in front of her house.
    "You can't park on this side of the street, " she said.
   "Nancy, I can't park on any site of the street."
    "I mean there's no park on this side of the street, " she explained.
    "Nancy, I'm not parked on this side of the street, I'm parked on that side. I just didn't want to get too close to the curb and scrape something."
    I imagine that as Nancy saw me pulling away alone in her Excalibur to the rumbling of its powerful motor she was thinking of one thing. A drink.
    On my way home I was able to relax enough to notice people staring. I checked my fly. I started noticing the reactions that Nancy talked about. Someone yelled, "Great car!" Someone else shouted, "Love your car!" At a stoplight a guy pulled up and said, "Great body!" I winked and replied, "Well, I try to take care of myself."
    With three reactions ready for paper I decided to stop at the home of two writer friends, Patty and David. I figured that with their way with words, their command of the language, they could just about finish off the article for me.
   When Patty saw the car she said, "Good grief! . . . Wow!" and began caressing the car like it was a life size foldout of Robert Redford.
    She was silent and smiling. I was not.
    "Patty, I drove all the way aver here for help with my article and I get three words. I get 'good grief' and 'wow' -- and I already had a 'wow'."
    She's much better on paper. I said I'd give her a ride anyway.
   David came out of the house. I could tell from the look of his face what was coming.
    "You can save the 'wow' David, " I said. "I already have two."
    I said I'd take him for a ride if he said something long. Climbing in he said, "Fun car!"
    "David, could you say something longer?" I asked.
    "Really fun car," he said.
    "He's much better on paper, too.
    I gave Patty and David a ride worthy of their words, allowing only enough time for a couple more "fun car's" and "wow's" and other things I already had.

    As I pulled up in front of my house two boys stopped their bikes and started speaking rapidly in French about the car. After two minutes I probably had all the comments I needed, but unfortunately I did not have all the French I needed. Two minutes worth, and all I understood was "Excalibur." I finally asked one of the boys if he spoke English. He said he did.
    "Oh, bi-lingual, huh?" I commented.
    "No," he answered, "trilingual."
    Trilingual? Terrific! I'd finally get more than "good grief,", "wow" and "fun." He asked if the car was mine. I explained that someone had let me use it for the weekend.
    "Lucky!" he said.
    He's trilingual, and I get "lucky!"
    As   the  boys  caressed  the  car  in  a

Silent and smiling way that was becoming all too familiar we were joined by my son and one of his friends. My son immediately asked if we could pick up some more of his friends and drive around --- an unusual request from a normal teenage boy whose desire for public appearances with old mom is limited to "R" movies so he can get in. Dr. Spock, eat your heart out! No reason to spend hours, days, maybe years reading about getting along with teenagers when you can get the same results just by spending $30,000 on a car.
    My son suggested that we pick up four of his friends. I asked where we were going to put everyone. He said they could "smush" in the back. I      reminded     him       that      he      hated

During our author's weekend frolic in an Excalibur, Marcia Maher Conta appears to be either signaling for help or attempting to remove the automobile's top while in motion.