If you see any spelling mistakes in this, let me know....
I too once had my heart set on a pretty little 289c Cherry Red 67’ Convertible, with white wall tires and a matching Rag top. On those few lucky times I got to take a peek at her with her top off, she showed me a little bit of her appeal came from the luxury features of the 2+2 Fast back.
Those quiet summer afternoons I learned so many personal things about her zero balanced traction from her front and rear suspension, or about her smooth Uniform shift quadrant in her automatic transmission. She was so excited to show me her
Magic Circle Recirculating Ball and asked me to play with her steering. She was so shy about her wider wheels which were bigger than the other cars, and how she felt she had to make up for it with smoother wheel attitude, a slightly lower chassis control and much more comfortable control.
Although I was young, for me it was more than just a warm summer of exploration and education. I had an opportunity, not to just play with her Pinks, but actually purchase them. I had the ear of her owner and a handshake deal to make an honest automobile out of her, provided the deal was reasonable and fair.
She was privately owned, parked in a Driveway far from where I lived. People very rarely drove that way, and she was often covered or parked in the back. No one was knocking at the door to either buy or sell, one way or the other. The Economy was calm, and people were just not as nostalgic as they had been. My Grandfather loved her, but he always said that he’s sell her to someone, but they better come with a deal that was both reasonable and fair.
We all knew what a rarity offers like that had become in our modern day and age.
So for that summer I spent as much time with that beautiful girl as I could. I knew she required only minor restoration and repairs, in fact far less than the owner realized. I was quietly saving my money, preparing to make a reasonable offer to the owner. I’d taken the time to learn her inside and out. I wanted to be her driver so badly, and I knew I wanted her to be my car. At times she would drive through my mind during the day, and some nights she would drive through my dreams. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had fallen deeply for my first love.
Time moved on as the heat of the summer slowly became cooler.
But the fall turned cold and harsh, quicker than I expected. It took a bit longer for me to save up what I felt a reasonable down payment looked like. It was nearly Christmas before I was able to make it back to Winston-Salem. where I knew she was waiting for me. But when I went there next, I’d saved up enough to make a down payment and I intended to add my little rice burner as a trade in. It was a deal that I felt was both reasonable and fair.
I set off down the Highway with nothing but her Cherry and white features in my mind. I made a list of things I would need to change out, some extras to purchase, a list of things that I would need to do to take proper care of her.
I stopped for lunch about halfway there, and cleaned out my car fo the third time that week. I did a walk around kicked the tires, and headed on.
The traffic was convoluted and and the air had the scent of snow in it. I reminded myself to be sure to get the cover as well. Anyone who had been up North knew snow and cars were a bad mix, and I wanted her first night with me to be delightful, or comfortable at the very least.
It was later than I had hoped when I made it to Winston-Salem. I pulled off the highway, down the side roads, past the church and then down the lonely road that was barely lit by a streetlight.
I pulled into the driveway expecting the sight of her to warm every part of my body, but... she wasn’t parked out front with the cover on. I was worried until I reminded myself it was probably in the back in the garage where the oil pit was.
I parked the car, slowly gathered my bags and throwing them
Over my shoulder I turned towards the door. My grandfather stood in the doorway looking at me, ready to help me carry in whatever I needed. I came in quietly with my bags. My grandmother slept in the back room, attached to a respirator.
My Grandfather and I sat sat at the kitchen table drinking tea. I didn’t mention the Mustang. We told stories, jokes, and talked about happy things. Eventually he went to bed. I went down to my couch in the basement. She wasn’t there either, and that was when I knew that Cherry Red 67’ Mustang had probably slipped away.
My parents arrived the next day. It was my mother who asked about the car. When my Grandmother was diagnosed with Emphysema my Grandfather had gone through every Mustang collectors catalog he could find and sold the car for the best offer he could get. He knew her medical bills were steep, and after all a car was just a car, the woman you love is a different thing entirely.
I don’t think we ever spoke about it again. I know I didn’t mention it once before he died years later. The last I remember of it was asking him if he got a good deal for it. “It was reasonable.” He said.
Then we went into the kitchen to make dinner for ourselves.
amandla
titsay
vaporwave