cars and the mammy

Strolling through the Whitewater Centre with the Lildebeest.
"What's that?" quoth she, giving me a nudge worth about 6.7 on the richter scale.
Ahead of us a pair of gleaming automobiles had been parked in the hallway as part of a sales promotion for a garage.
We walked over to the cars.
"You're nearly due a new car," murmured the aged parent thoughtfully.
Ah yes.
Since I ferry the Mammy around so much she has lately begun making encouraging noises about me trading in the old jalopy for something more upmarket.
Today could be the day.
We inspect the first car.
It's a Volkswagen beetle.
Cute but I'm not buying it.
We inspect the second car.
It's a Porsche.
Great Scott.
Great God of Heelerses.
Oooh Lordy, my troubles with cars.
I want this.
We look at the price.
€60,000.
Sure you couldn't.
You couldn't spend that on a car.
Assuming that like me you have sixty grand in your back pocket to begin with.
Arf, arf.
A little sixty grand humour there.
Truly folks I haven't got a bean.
Lil and me contemplate the Porsche for some moments more in respectful silence.
Eventually with wry smiles we tear ourselves away and head upstairs for coffees.
That's quite enough dreaming for one day.