I pulled into the empty bay of the gas station for my ritual of fueling for the week when I noticed the car on the other side of the pump.
It was a low, sleek convertible that sat only two. Swathed in the proper color of iron gray, its lines of industrial design held up well against the years. It was instantly recognizable as an Audi. The business lady that owned it had upgraded the sportster with aftermarket wheels and tasteful tires that while low profile weren’t overly low profile.
The brake dust on the wheels was mildly off-putting but also suggested that she drove her car instead of just parading in it.
Being a car guy, I wanted to say something about the Audi. How nice the design was or how the all-wheel drive and balance help the car dance in the curves. Maybe something about the 2.0 liter engine having just enough horsepower to make the car playful but not overdone.
But I hesitated. I wasn’t sure how to properly state the car. Should I use it’s name?
In the end I just looked at the lady and said, “Nice Audi.”
After all how would the lady respond if I said, “Nice TT you got there.”
