Remember when you were a teenager and you developed various crushes on certain celebrities? Teen girls had their Davy Jones's, David Cassidys, Leif Garretts, Rob Lowes, and James Van Der Beeks (pick yer decade, ladies), while we young men had our Farrah Fawcetts, Catherine Bachs, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, Britney Spears'ss's, Kate Uptons, and Lamborghini Countachs (hey, we're a little geeky, okay?). Most of those are pretty standard and easily understood even from the pedestal of advanced age. Heck, much to my parents' chagrin, I had Farrah's 1976 Red Swimsuit poster on my wall (along with God knows what all else, I don't even remember; but I remember that one. . .).
On the other hand many of us probably had one of those that came out of left field that no one else went gonzo over. You know the type, kind of homely, maybe a bit nerdy, and not someone who would leap to mind as being traditionally sexy, hot, or any other adjective that leaps to mind. But for a time they were the center of our little-understood teenaged hormonal universe and we look back on them, again from the pedestal of advanced age, and. . .well, usually get a little wistful after the initial "What was I thinking?" moment. For what it's worth, my bizarro crush was none other than [censored to protect my dignity] so make of that what you will.
Thus my odd and fairly recent fascination with the 2002-2006 Honda CRV. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's a fine vehicle, but more in the way a KitchenAid Mixer is a fine appliance, but definitely not something to almost obsess over. Think perhaps Kate Jackson to Farrah Fawcett. Danny Bonaduce to David Cassidy. Ringo. Answering Mrs. Thurston Howell III to that eternal question for pete's sake!
So, no, I'm not sure why I've latched onto the CRV as my Objet d'Lust lately. But I suppose admitting it to others is the first step in recovery. . . .