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Originally Posted by MickOpalak
Automobile has always been one of my favorite automobile mags. To this day I carry around with me a quote from one of the early editorials of the original editor, David E. Davis, Jr. He introduced the piece as a thought on what he would buy if he won the lottery. I think I was about 17 or 18 when it was published and it left a deep impression on me that I carry to this day.:
" I have a friend who understood quality when he graduated from high school. He must have gotten that intuitive appreciation as an extra chromosome, or something. When he graduated from art school, he owned nothing but his clothes, mainly Levis and white T-shirts. He didn't take any vows or anything, he simply resisted the temptation to buy second-rate merchandise, on the reasonable basis that he didn't have much money, so he couldn't afford to buy cheap stuff. He lived in a New York flat without furniture for a long time. When he could afford furniture, he bought an Eames chair, with footrest. When he could afford a suit, he bought a navy blue one from the best tailor in Rome. He didn't purchase a car for a long time, but when he did, he bought an old Aston Martin DB2 coupe. As a result, he never had any junk to throw away. There were never any old bell bottomed trousers or Nehru jackets embarrassing him in his closet. He probably never had to introduce his friends to any girlfriends named Bambi, either. It is entirely possible that he had to push-start that old Aston Martin more than once, but push-starting an Aston Martin while wearing a $2000 suit and Lobb shoes, with the help of a tall, willowy divorcee named Deirdre, is not the same thing as push-starting your '66 Electra 225 with the help of your co-workers from the carwash.
If you are a young reader, seeking way in life, my friend's is the better example. Follow me, and you will wander through a maze of let's-try-this-and-see-what-happens experimental adventures, a lifelong orienteering course with a compass that sometimes, without warning, decides to point south. Follow the example of my quality-seeking friend, and you will, in the deathless words of the father of one of Max Shulman's feckless heroes, be able to "Get rich. Get rich, then you can sleep till noon and screw 'em all." Words to live by. My friend is successfully employed somewhere in Manhattan right now, gazing out over the cityscape, probably and wondering if he ought to buy a Testarossa or a Turbo R, and he won't have to win the lottery to do it."
Still brings a tear to my eye.
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