Dear Top Gear UK:
If you could stop being so awesome, so hilarious, and so interesting, that would be great.
In all seriousness, I have been a fan of Top Gear UK for something like three years. A bit of a late start, but still, a huge fan nonetheless. In fact I once wrote a short story where you guys--Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond, and James May--all showed up to the dealership to help me pick out a car to replace my Pontiac Sunfire. I know you'd never stoop to such a pedestrian task, excluding May, but it was such a fun idea I couldn't resist it. I contemplated going back to school in England for a master's in journalism just so that I could write for Top Gear Magazine. The worst bit is that I'm afraid of fast cars. I'm the epitome of the female Captain Slow. I drive a Mazda3 and giggle when my 1.9 liter engine gets better gas mileage than my ex-husband's Mazda2 with a smaller engine and lighter chassis. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I love Top Gear UK. If that makes me weird, then I'm par for the course.
But really, the awesomeness has to stop. I'm constantly distracted, especially these last couple of days when such happy events as planning my best friends' wedding has lead to a sharp decline in Fraser, Star Trek: Voyager and Bones watching at the house, also leaving me alone with the television for anime, and of course, rediscovering some of the best episodes of Top Gear. The fact that now I'm going to need something to fill the silent void while my boyfriend goes to Iowa is also disturbing. Do I plan on getting any work done? Yes. Will I be able to if all I'm doing is using his computer to watch Top Gear on Netflix? No. For example, I have been here all day and have managed to squeak out a meager 1,300 words on my story between episodes of Top Gear. I also spent half an hour not writing my novel to price a 2003 or 2009 (and in the end I went with the '09) Porsche Boxster S. Turns out that if my Mazda were paid off, I could rather easily afford one. Sure I'd look like I hadn't exactly gotten to where I wanted to be in life, but there's plenty of time for a sexy chick to look hot in a Boxster at the age of 28 and get a 911 later in life, when I have less of a future to look forward to surviving to. In the end I decided to sit down and write my novel, so I could have something to look forward to when I sell it, and believe me, I don't create for money. Like driving a Boxster, I feel like if I wrote for money, I'd be doing it for all the wrong reasons. The right reason to drive a Boxster would be to say, "I drive a Porsche and I'm still alive." The right reason to write a novel is to create something amazing, which is what I'm off to do now.
So to my dear boys at Top Gear, I thoroughly blame you for all the amazing things I plan to accomplish in my half-baked attempt to be able to afford a Porsche Boxster S, but adding to that I'd like to thank you for presenting me with so many wonderful car films to entertain myself with, and for doing what you do, living the dream that so many people wish they could live: driving fast cars in a safe environment for delight of others, being honest in your reviews and hopefully leading to better products and technology. We might not be going Green here, but I'd rather you guys run out all our gas in a few years so we can get on with protecting the environment and watching you guys test rocket ships after all the cars go electric. Thanks, guys.