Where did the Gingermobile go?

Batman had the Batmobile, the Lone Ranger had Silver and even Shrek had Donkey - so, just recently, people have been asking why I've removed my little sidebar about The Gingermobile.

Well, folks, the Gingermobile is no more.

That's to say, the car is fine. It's now the powerful chariot of a very pretty girl from Mercer County. But since she's a honey blond at best, my 1985 Pontiac Firebird no longer has the right to be called The Gingermobile. In fact, nothing does.

You heard correct: Il n'y a plus de Gingermobile.

Friends, there comes a time in a man's life when a gas-guzzling, two-seater sports car is apparently no longer an appropriate means of transport for a loving husband with a small, bouncy baby. So even though it broke my heart, I sold my beloved dream car to young couple who would no doubt enjoy it much more than I could.

When I was eighteen, I was driving the original Gingermobile - a '78 Triumph TR7 - and it was the bee's knees, the mutt's nuts and the cat's pajamas all rolled into one. Hopefully, the young couple I sold it to think exactly the same of my lovely car.

But like the passing of a beloved pet, it's not easy to fill the absence left by a heroic steed. I've been thinking long and hard about whether or not I even need a new Gingermobile - and, if I did, what that Gingermobile would be.

I can confirm only the following:

1. It will be red.
2. It will be fast.
3. It will make people stop and scratch their heads.
4. It will be wildly impractical.
5. It will predate 1990.
6. It will drink gasoline like it was going out of fashion.
7. It will be all those things and yet, somehow, more...

Currently, my eye is turning to my original American chariot, the pimpin' Lincoln of former New Jersey Governor Jim 'Friday Night Special' McGreevey himself.

That rampant red roadster, made famous by a mention on Playboy Radio's breakfast show, turned so many heads, I had to have a chiropractor on retainer (try her, she's the best in New York.)

With seating for six, trunk-space for golf clubs, suitcases and at least two dead bodies, plus square good looks like I used to have (before I was introduced to American-style meatloaf) the old 80s Lincoln Town Car personified the most grown-up aspects of my wildly immature car buying tastes.

Perhaps The Gingermobile will ride again - and perhaps, that's an indication of what it might look like...