In my youth I was advised that – as I grew older – I would develop an interest in the obituary page. But no one warned me about the Sunday New York Times Automobile section, which always leads with one or two deep, long reviews of cars. They don't discuss what my wife and I would buy: low-end sedans and small wagons. But as I read, I imagine myself behind the wheel of every one of these cars.
Better yet, I imagine myself as a reviewer. I'm resigned to likelihood that no one will give me a million dollars, as part of a study into how people change when given a million dollars. But it's more realistic to imagine being asked, along with Michelle Krebs, Ezra Dyer and the rest of the Times considerable stable of car critics, to drive a nice car for a few months and write about it. Ah, sweet daydreams.