A Corvette by any Other Name...

A while back at a local cruise, I noticed a young boy and his dad admiring my Vette. Actually, the kid was the one doing the admiring (he was 8 or 10-years-old). His dad was busy looking at his smartphone.

Anyway, since the kid obviously liked my car, I asked him if he'd like to sit in the driver's seat so his dad could take a pic of him at the controls, to which he eagerly agreed.

By the way, whenever I get the chance to make a young kid's day by letting him or her sit in my Corvette at a car show or cruise, I am happy to oblige as long as the parents are cool with it, and most people are.

So I open the door and tell the kid to get in, and next thing you know the dad is halfway in my car reaching under the seat trying to find the lever to adjust the seat.

Since the dude did not bother to ask me if it was okay for him to reconfigure my seat settings, I almost told him I was okay with the kid having his picture taken in the car, but that he was not allowed to drive it away.

However, I bit my tongue since I did not want to embarrass him in front of his son, and (luckily) he stopped after he figured how to slide my seat forward. He then snapped a pic.

And I totally get it; the kid looked happy sitting in the car holding the steering wheel. But at least his dad could've asked.

The boy, who was grinning from ear to ear as he exited the vehicle, asked me what kind of car it was. But before I could answer "Corvette," his dad blurts out, "It's a Stingray." No kidding, Sherlock. The fender badges give that one away.

By now I'd had it and I just could not help it, so I added—doing my best Vincent Vega impression—"Well, except in Paris."

The dad looked at me not really knowing what the hell I was talking about, so I continued with my Vincent Vega routine:

"As you know," I said, "since they have the metric system over there, they can't just call it a Stingray. So they call it the Stingray Royale."

I was joking, of course, and frankly, I thought he would get it and maybe even be amused, but instead,  "Mr. Self-Appointed Corvette Expert"—who obviously had never seen Pulp Fiction or really knew the first thing about Corvettes—not wanting to look stupid in front of his kid, I guess, just nodded and said "Oh yeah," as they walked away to go look at another car.

And that was that.

And yes, I still shake my head when I think about that encounter.

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