Recently, Debbie and I celebrated the twelfth anniversary of our first date by having dinner at a local restaurant overlooking a golf club (fancier trappings than our usual haunt, but a much more limited choice of draft beers).
Returning to the Miata (which was also our conveyance on that first date) we spotted a blue Cobra (no stripe) replica parked across the way. Naturally we wandered over to take a look.
How did we know it was a replica?
The keys were in it.
Wanting to impress Debbie with my car-nerd-ness, I mentioned that the originals of these Cobras are usually priced at over a million dollars, so people are reluctant to drive them under most conditions. But there are many Cobra replicas on the road that cost less (some times a lot less) than a new F-150 King Ranch, so using one to go to dinner is no more unreasonable than using the King Ranch to take brush to the dump.
There was not a spec of dust on this vehicle.
Impeccable logic and thinking on my part.
But of course, I would not knowingly leave the keys in a King Ranch, or in a Tacoma, or even in a 19 year old Miata.
“I gotta take some pictures of this for CC” I said, and snapped a few.
Then a worried looking guy came fast-walking towards me and said “… think I left the keys in it.”
I smiled, said “yes”, and then pointing to the Miata added “I see we both have the same type of car.”
His amiable (and relieved) reply: “A convertible is a convertible”.