More along the lines of this:
Yea, you're seeing that correctly. That's a ridiculously large Victorian house (for those of you who have the luxury, it's actually up for sale in the Heights). I don't know if it's the rain, but I dream of tooling around this monstrosity renovating bathrooms and setting up elaborate libraries with antique fixtures and chaise lounges upholstered in velvet.
And then for a reality check. I try to deny it, but my Jeep Cherokee is dying a slow (somewhat painful) death. It's a great little car, can transport countless chairs and found objects and takes a beating, but I've noticed it rumbling a little louder, squeaking randomly in the rain and sometimes when I'm driving on the Turnpike I'm not sure if that melting plastic smell is from the engine or Exit 13A (Elizabeth).
So, while searching for my fantasy Victorian mansion, I've been checking out used cars. And what do I fall in love with? Something practical? Something safe? Nope, a '79 MG Midget.
(New ride or daydream?)
Long story short, I did make a purchase. It's vintage, but not a Victorian. It's shiny, but not a sports car.
Yes sir, I bought a vintage, red -- and completely rusted -- Raleigh bike. Try not to be too jealous. And maybe this weekend I'll even take it for a spin by my dream house in the Heights.