The Slice: Putting the top down on image vs. reality

I’ve never owned a convertible.

That’s probably true for a lot of us. So maybe it’s natural to wonder, when the weather turns summery. How does a convertible change your life?

Perhaps the experts, those who own or have owned convertibles, can help.

If qualified Slice readers would be so good as to answer the following questions, I will pass along any key insights. Thanks in advance.

1. Do you look 20 years younger in a convertible or does the sight of you behind the wheel prompt onlookers to mutter, “No fool like an old fool.”

2. Is it true that, if you are a guy who owns a convertible, attractive women are powerless to resist you – to the point where it’s almost annoying for the gentleman in question? You know, to the extent where he finally has to say, “Quit brushing up against me like that! What are you, a cat? I already told you, I’m married. How do you women find me?”

3. If you are a woman behind the wheel of a convertible, do you suppose that wearing sunglasses makes observers wonder if you are a movie star visiting the Spokane area to check out some overpriced lakefront property?

4. When you have to put the top up because of rain, does it leak?

5. When you are cruising around town in a convertible, can you hear the stylish theme from 1966’s “A Man and a Woman” playing in your head?

6. Does owning a convertible make you cooler or, uh, you know, not?

7. Does driving a convertible make people think you have a rakish charm?

8. Does owning a convertible lessen the likelihood you will initiate conversations about getting a lot of fiber in your diet?

9. Do you find yourself being suspicious of birds?

10. If you are a guy, does owning a convertible make women want you and men want to be you?

A different sort of fragrance story: “My first teenage love was in my final year at Flagstaff (Ariz.) High School in 1947,” wrote Arthur Dendy. “She wore, to the perfect degree, a scent called Tabu. That love went, as those loves do, but to this day my memory of that scent snaps my head around in expectation of seeing that girl. Yes, 70 years took my youth, and hers, but not the delicious memory.”

Today’s Slice question: Do you say Li-LOCK or Li-LACK?

Write The Slice at P. O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; email pault@spokesman.com. Greg Jones would tell kids who might be future surgeons, “Absolutely no texting during surgery.”