Seconds ago, as I opened
www.blogger.com, a television commercial extolled a major benefit of having a new Pontiac. If one throws tens of thousands of dollars down on the table, it is apparently easy to buy ...
F - R - E - E - D - O - M.

In the commercial, initially, there was a fog of annoying, computer-generated responsibilities swirling around the driver's head like gnats on a hot day. Yet as the example driver headed out on a limitless empty highway, these items were sucked away in the draft created by his increasing speed. A fat guy, most probably a boss, was able to hang onto the collar the longest, but as soon as our alter ego was able to shift into overdrive, even that annoyance was loosened. The boss broke into pieces on the road as if made from painted ceramics.
Lots of new car ads imply easy access to speed and freedom if customers purchase specific vehicles. I guess my old Ranger is not such a beast. This must be why I find every street clogged with traffic whenever I venture out onto the tarmac. It seems my worries and blonde hair seldom fly with wild abandon as I speed down empty highways.