In 1998 they started publishing six issues a year. I don’t remember exactly where in the year they came, but for the purposes here they will show up on the first of the even numbered months.

Got Milk?

By Norman Garrett
Founding Father

Among my favorite words after nine each night are, “Honey, do we have milk for the morning?”

Maybe only a Miata owner can understand, but any excuse for a short road trip is cause for glee in my book. Call it spontaneity in my otherwise predictable world.

Me, the moonlight, my Miata, and a short errand. Time to drive with the top down and the radio off. A little island of serenity at the end of a long, probably hard day, Sort of a half automotive yoga/half runner’s high kind of thing. Me and five speeds, no schedule, no ETA. A good excuse for a senseless drive.

And Candi knows it as well as I do. Maybe more, bless her.

Because the fact is, this drive is much more than senseless. As the cool night air tumbles over the wind-shield and my hair gets tousled, perspective falls back into place after 15 hours of absence. I smell the crisp mid-winter woods in hibernation. The cold air on the back of my shift hand feels tingly. The shift knob vibrates with a harsh-er tone over the cold trans-mission. The exhaust echoes against the naked trees, pinpoint stars dot the black winter sky. Hardly senseless, this trip.

In my small way, I’m out of the loop. I come into the store independent of the usual pressed schedule. Others are clamoring to get their weekly shopping done and get home. I’ve already been home. I’m neither here nor there; off the grid for a few minutes.

I stroll past the magazine rack, take a few minutes or ten to catch up on the rest of the automotive world. A little fix for my automotive habit. On to the dairy case, through the express line, back to the parking lot. I’m the only one getting into to a convertible — out of the responsibility loop again. Sure it’s cold out, but hey, I’ve got a heater…

Going home, mission accomplished„ my brain co automatic but in a good way — like a NI-Cad must feel on full charge. I follow may headlights along some yellow lines across familiar roads, bat peg my apexes and shift points flawlessly. Second, third, fourth, then back down again. Tap the brakes, drift the back end — it’s the sort of driving I never do during the day. Nighttime is the best for this, when you have no time to keep.

For me, an excuse to get out after the kids are down and the world is finally quiet is a coupon for peace of mind, a dose of the best kind of medicine. One hundred cc’s of Miata and everything is all better. I wonder if we need eggs…