Tom Hobbs

I took a geology class in college.  It wasn't that I had an interest in rocks or the earth's evolution.  I just had to take a science class, and the surest way to secure an A was to enroll in geology.  The professor's name was Tom Hobbs.  He was an average guy in his late forties with short salt-and-pepper hair.  I honestly don't recall much about the geology curriculum, but I do remember the professor's new car: a silver 1992 BMW 318i.  Because I was doing well in his class, he was often willing to engage into conversation about his car.  It didn't require much coaxing; I think he enjoyed talking about it.  A framed photo of his car parked near a forest hung on the wall of his small office.  He once told me that he waited all of his life to have that car.  That stuck with me.  After class one day, I sat at one of my favorite burger joints, and I remember thinking Why would someone wait that long to buy a BMW 3-series?  After all, it was just an entry-level BMW, not a Ferrari -- or even a BMW 850i.

I ultimately concluded that Tom Hobbs' financial state must not be entirely wonderful.  Clearly, he had a gambling problem, I reasoned.  Or maybe the geology department didn't pay its professors very well.  Whatever the reason, I decided that I would be more affluent than Tom Hobbs when I reached his age.

Let's fast-forward to current day.  I'm 39 years old now.  I have a wife with two children, a mortgage payment and a car payment.  I live in a very modest house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms.  Contrary to my intentions when I was in my early twenties, I have come to have a very average existence.  And like millions of other hard-working average men in this country, I watch episodes of Top Gear and tingle with desire as Jeremy Clarkson drives some of the world's most magnificent performance cars.  And as I sit on my couch, I wonder if I am so unlike Tom Hobbs when he was in his late thirties dreaming of owning that 318i.

It's interesting how one's life unfolds at a certain pace and is almost impervious to outside forces.  I've certainly made efforts to accelerate things.  I've set goals and worked toward them.  When I've achieved them, I set new goals.  But this lifelong process only advances you at a slow-and-steady rate, never significantly quicker than your peers.  Apart from a relative few -- like celebrities and lottery winners -- most people who have especially wonderful things have had to wait to have them.  They've had to work their asses off for a long time.  It's not coincidence that the people you see driving a Porsche, a Maserati or a Ferrari almost always have white hair.  They're old.  They waited.  They worked hard.  I suppose I understand that better today than when I was in my early twenties.  In those days, I was under the ridiculous impression that I would make large volumes of money after graduating from college.  Obviously, I did not have that experience.

So, today I watch Top Gear and frequently visit the Porsche website.  I ache at the occasional Carrera that drives past me.  And as I pull into the driveway of my basic home, I accept with certainty that I will be just like Tom Hobbs.  One day I'll say to the young person drooling over my 911, "I waited all of my life to have that car."