It may as well have said ‘Make out with Cindy Crawford for Twenty Minutes”

Tonight I was at a fundraiser for Special Olympics, sponsored by a family friend’s law firm and accompanied by my lovely wife.   If it sounds wealthy suburban, it’s because it is.  We drove across the toll bridge in my old Honda hybrid.   She rolled her eyes when I gave her the latest news of my negotiations with the Ford dealer for an FFE.   Evidently I’ve been quite the chatty Cathy about EVs for a few weeks.   Not everyone shares my enthusiasm for the coming EV revolution.

We had wine, and chicken skewers, and made some small donations.    Chatted with the firm’s various small-business clients, met some of the athletes and coaches from Special Olympics.   Compared notes about the scar on my wrist with a 13-year-old Special Olympian who had busted up his arm falling off a motorcycle.  “Chicks dig scars”, I advised him.   His dad coaches their soccer team and it was mentioned that the jerseys are getting pretty ratty.

There was a silent auction as well.

The usual auction stuff;  gift certificates for some fancy dinners, sets of tickets to baseball games, a couple of timeshare trips down in the Caribbean.    A stylish desk set and coffee basket, a collection of Mariners bobbleheads.

And right there in the middle, a single sheet of heavy paper with a glossy picture printed on it of a sleek white car.

A daggerlike letter T.

The words “48 Hour Ultimate Experience” and “Weekend With the Model S”


The kids are going to have sweet soccer jerseys this year.   I’m taking Dad for a roadtrip.

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