With that in mind, I love to run into other folks who don't let society (or you could insert the word 'reality' here) define them. This morning, on the way to work, I encountered their king. He was ahead of me at the stop sign on Nesbitt Road. He was driving a silver Chevy Cruz and it was decked out! It had small tires so it barely cleared the ground, colored hubcaps, custom dual exhaust, decals on the tops of the tinted windows, a spoiler on the back, and was spit shined to a glow so bright that you couldn't look directly at it without sacrificing your retinas.
When he got his chance to turn right at the light, it was a thing of beauty! He lurched into traffic with a roar that sounded very much like a 1930s John Deere tractor that has seen many years of hard hauling, but it eventually settled and evened out into a high pitched whine reminiscent of an old Toro push mover we had back in the day. When I passed him, he was sitting low, lid on backwards, aviator's shining and head pumping to music of which I could only hear the bass. Actually I could feel the bass.
This dude had it going on. He had decided that while a Ferrari wasn't in his budget, a pimped-out, compact, family sedan would fit the bill nicely, thank you. All it needed was a little bling. After all, he was on the inside, so the appearance of the outside of the car was limited only by his imagination. Had he wanted a horse, there is no doubt I would have passed him, galloping down Nesbitt in a jaunty fashion, clip-clopping two coconut shells together and yelling 'Hi Ho Silver'!
You GO Pimped-Out-Chevy-Cruz-Guy! No one defines you but YOU!