Not the kind you plug into your computer. I'm talking about the ink-stained wretches you seldom see in daylight.
When I owned the little weekly newspaper in Goliad, Texas, we had to get printed a few miles away in Beeville. At the time, I was also working on two really old BMW's for my sons and I drove an even older Mercedes sedan.
Without thinking about it, for a three week period I drove a different car over to Beeville to get our little weekly printed. Most often, I would drive up as the printers were taking a smoke break.
Once, a dour printer blurted out: "What's the deal with those cars?"
Without missing a beat, I breezed: "Fellas, I drive two 20-year-old BMWs, one 30-year-old Mercedes and date one 50-year-old woman."
Next week, sure enough, I arrived just as their smoke break began. "I told my wife what you said," the dour guy said.
"She said to ask the S.O.B. if he restored the woman, too?"