I would have a major bone to pick with the marketing team that brought back punching when you see a VW Bug on the road, except that I strongly suspect the trend was revitalized by a 12-year old girl. Why ... because my 12 year-old girl derives SUCH pleasure from punching me under the pretence that it’s for the car.
Every punch is loaded. She punches hard. I, of course, am watching the road, trying to protect her life, which is my JOB. She, on the other hand, is adjusting the radio stations and volume, texting her friends, checking her face in the mirror and ... POW! “Red one”, she shouts!
She punches hard. I’m telling you: every punch is loaded. It has meaning. It has feeling. One says, “You woke me up too early”. Then ... POW! “Blue one! Ha ... that’s two already!” That punch feels like retaliation for making her finish her homework before playing on the computer. Just before turning into our street ... POW! POW! “Beige one! Double punch for convertibles!” That must have been for making her pick up her dirty laundry...
Think about it!? I mean, would you have been allowed to PUNCH your parents? I shudder thinking about it. I’m nearly 50 and I still wouldn’t even pretend to rap my mother’s knuckles! We grew up in the 60s, when moms said, “Wait ‘til your father gets home” and you’d be nervous stewing over what he’d say or do. In my house, my mother might have said that but she didn’t wait; she doled out a share of the wooden spoon first! Well, I spared my kids the proverbial rod and I’m sure all grandparents think whatever’s wrong with this generation is the result of that oversight! In any case, kids in our day were afraid to talk back, let alone PUNCH!
Yet, here we are just one generation later and my kid is bruising my right arm every time she sees a VW Bug. Maybe I need to buy a wooden spoon just for the car – ha ha! Unfortunately, St. Louis fared well through the recent recession so there are tons of brand new VW Bugs on the road right now ... red ones, green ones, yellow ones with daisies, black ones with soft tops, baby blue ones with white doors ... POW! POW! POW!
OW! OW! OW!
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