I was coming back from an early morning jog Tuesday morning when I noticed a Maserati Quattroporte parked on Main Street a few blocks from my house. A fine work of automotive design, it is not often that I have the opportunity to closely examine such a vehicle. As I approached the car, I noticed that the driver was still in the vehicle. And he had just taken a hit off his crack pipe.
This angered me, not so much because he looked like he was about to proceed on an intoxicated commute to work endangering the lives his fellow co-coummuters (which should have been my first reaction), but rather because I felt to imbibe in such a fine motorcar was a desecration of the work of art that a Maserati is.
It probably improved his driving reflexes if anything.