Where’s My Flying Car??

When I was a kid, I loved the Jetsons. Who am I kidding? I still love the Jetsons. And I remember thinking this wasn’t just a good cartoon. This was the future. When I grew up, I’d have that cool closet that would dress me and style my hair. I’d have a robot maid and vending machines in my house.

But best of all, I’d have a flying car.

And it wasn’t even so I could take vacations to Mars or drop my kids out of an escape hatch in the bottom. Well, not just for that. It was because that just seemed like the next logical step: From horse and buggies to cars to personal flying machines.

I want to leave my house at 7:25, buckle up in my space sedan, lift off, and land at school at 7:30, ready to work. I want to load the students up in an “air bus” and take them to see a play on Broadway. For the day. And have them back in time for softball practice. And I want it to cost no more than a tank of gas. Because, yes, I know, there are private planes that can do some of that. But they are for the wealthy. The Jetsons weren’t wealthy, though. George worked his blue collar job at Cogsworth’s and still was able to afford his flying car. And the occasional vacation to the moon.

So I’m feeling a little bummed right now. Sure, technology is great. I like my iPod, my laptop, those cool new Coke machines at Burger King that have fifty million drink options.

But I’d give all that up for one flying car.

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