So I saw a 1970 240Z the other day and I clearly remembered how cool they looked when they came out. Then I thought, wow, they came out 40 years ago. So what would a car that was 40 years old in 1970 look like?

You got it. The moral? I am getting up there.

It is hot, I am sweating like Charlie Sheen's divorce attorney when he found there was no prenup, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers


As many of my friends have taken their kids to college, I reminisced about when I arrived at U.C. Santa Barbara. When I flew in to Los Angeles and then to Santa Barbara from Chicago I had twenty bucks in my pocket that I went through pretty quickly. No problem, my parents said they had set up a modest checking account for me at the famous Bank of America on the sight where student rioters burned it to the ground in the Sixties.

So I saunter in only to discover the first of many times my parents would fail to grasp the two hour time difference. The money was not there and my account would not be open until Tuesday. Suddenly I wanted to burn the bank to the ground.

Friday early evening, I knew nobody and I had no money and no place to stay. As I was a student, I was able to attend some catered events, but basically I didn’t eat much for four days. As for my accommodations, I remember sleeping on the pole vault pit often waking up with tree frogs running across me. Still, all in all, it was far better than Long Beach the year before.

Tuesday, the bank opened and I took out $40 and ran to this mom and pop owned nice little breakfast diner in Isla Vista. There I ordered the biggest avocado, cheese and bacon omelet you’ve ever seen complete with silver dollar fried potatoes, toast, coffee and orange juice. It was heaven. I could have ordered - and eaten - two more.

So, in this vein of sentimentality, this morning I decided to order a bacon, avocado and cheese omelet from IHOP to go.

For the rest of the day it was like I had some vile form of food illness and flu. It took all day and everything I had to digest this monster. Took a snooze. Took Tums. Drank water. Moaned. Whined. Bitched. Rubbed my stomach. Whined some more. It was like having a wrestling match with your own guts. And losing.

I burped. Burped some more. Sweated. Did that thing that can happen if you didn't burp enough. Let's just say it was not "Camelot" up in here, up in here.

Essentially all day I felt, looked and smelled like Zach Galifianakis's beard after a stoned-out binge session at Sizzlers all-you-can-eat buffet.

Now it is about 3:30. I ate this pile of future heart disease at 8:30 am. I may be able to go work out at four or five. Maybe.

If you look at the pictures of the two cars, I feel a lot more like the 1930’s model.