My neighbor Peter had a penetrating question about the new Acura--all polished alloy, warm leather and rosewood brown lacquer twinkling in the driveway.
"How do you pronounce the name of that car?" he asked.
"V-I-G-O-R," I said. "Vig-Or."
"Not Vee-gor as in Igor?"
"No, Vigor as in vim and . . . "
"As in press on with . . . ?"
Peter obviously was disappointed. He'd expected a loftier meaning. Maybe vie-gaw in a reference to the seminal side of life as expressed by Onasander. But not plain old vigor, a label used less majestically in the past to imply the vitality of a detergent, lawn food and a discontinued scalp tonic.
The underlying message is clear.
Here is a four-seat sports... Read More