He felt the smooth leather under his fingers as he grasped the steering wheel, imagining himself accelerating off the line in yet another fully-loaded supercar. But, just as he was about to start it up and hear the roar of the finely-tuned machine, the dealer came over and said, "Uh...Phil, we need those keys."
"But, they're mine, right? I mean, I'm Phil freakin' Jackson."
"Sorry, sir. We just don't want to make the modifications necessary. First of all, your giant seat won't fit in the front and, second, we need someone who can drive it all the time, not just when it's convenient."
"But...I'm Phil freakin' Jackson. I've done nothing but drive supercars my whole life..."
"Sorry..."
And with that, he stepped out of the vehicle, handed the keys back to the dealer and ducked under the door as he returned home to his Zen garden...
"Here you are, Mr. D'Antoni," the dealer said as he handed the keys over to the mustachioed man to his left.
The man took the keys, opened the door and stepped into the driver's seat of his new ride. After moving the seat forward, he grabbed the wheel and ran his hands around its contour as he looked in wonderment at what he had just been given.
"Something seems familiar...," he thought to himself. Just then the navigation powered on:
"Hey coach, where would you like to go?"
"Steve? Is that you...?"
