Sunday, 30 March 2008

Tickle me evo.

Earth hour in our household sort of almost was kind of a mini-disaster that turned out very well in the end.

We don't live in a city that sees a lot of power outages. Windstorms and blizzards are relatively rare overall and we've had exactly one brown-out and one blackout in almost six years. Our raging blizzard began as a glorious heavy downpour and changed gradually to snow and wind after dark. The boys night plans included switching to candles and guitars from 8 to 9 pm in honor of the planet and we were off.

Only the kids decided five minutes in that they didn't like it and didn't care and could I put the lights on ohpleasepleaseplease and they were oddly not fans of it at all. Which is strange considering their genetic love of horror movies, watched in the dark of the living room or a movie theatre, and I rarely have more than one light on in the whole upstairs at night and only a couple downstairs. They play spies in the dark basement.

I didn't get it.

Ben finally suggested we take a drive out to the edge of the city and look at some other neighborhoods and make sure everyone else had their lights out too. John and Andrew wanted to, so we piled into his truck and off we went.

They did. Neighborhoods were black, invisible against the driving snow. Companies had the barest of security lights highlighting only entrances of buildings that are closed on weekends. Apartment blocks were quiet, dark bricks, candles flickering through open blinds. The kids were impressed.

And then Earth Hour was swiftly shoved aside in favor of a new discovery. Because we had to pass the car dealership mall that lies outside the city. With the Mitsubishi place right on the front line. Ben pulled in so fast I thought he had lost his mind, swerving to avoid an imaginary car or something. Or a deer.

He just sat and stared.

I sat up and looked past him.

They had an Evo. A Lancer Evolution. Or as we call it, Ben's Emo. Because he laughs and said he would cry tears of joy as he quickly passes people on the highway.

His favorite car.

I thought he might cry. He's loved these cars for like seven years and you couldn't get them in Canada without making heavy modifications, if at all. Now they're selling them. A forty-five thousand dollar package of horsepower and Japanese muscle and an intercooler that could suck in small animals and children but strangely and wonderfully enough, a family sedan with good backseat and trunk space. Four wheel drive, for our brutal eight-month winters.

Yeah, I think the big white truck's days are numbered, and he's only been a truck convert for the past year, having given up his previous car (mustang) after seeing how much the other guys loved their trucks (read: Jake).

He came home and ran some numbers (pointlessly) and decided that he will buy the car, but not for a year or so, until they have a few more colors and he looks after some other stuff. He asked if I liked it and I didn't have to ask if that really mattered but he wanted to know. Really I think it's expensive for a car but in the end life is short and it's not like he just saw it and liked it. He's liked it forever and he was like Henry when I take him to Sugar Mountain-bouncing around not knowing what to look at first. That reaction alone tells me the answer to his question.

Twenty dollars says we'll be going back today to look at it again.