For most of my life, I’ve been a “glass-is-half-empty” kind of person. Maybe because as a working journalist for more than three decades I became rather jaded covering the news. The daily grind turned this once idealistic college graduate into a hard-nosed, cynical reporter. Half full or half empty. Pick one. You are what you are. Yesterday, heading to the dentist for a routine teeth cleaning, I was daydreaming about how much I loved driving my 1965 Mustang with the top down on crisp autumn days, with visions of fresh apple cider and warm, cinnamon-sugar doughnuts dancing in my head. I wish fall could last forever. Then the car lurched…