How do you really know you are getting old? I discovered the true answer. I sat at the Pickerington Fourth of July Parade with friends from Church. I am [age-wise] inbetween the Mom and the Grandma, and friends with both. The 12 year old daughter, Jessie, who sat next to me was in my Sunday School class. The parade was very nice, we cheered our friends and family and called for candy for the little ones, helping them to scramble for it safely. Then came the "antique" cars section. The lead car was a Chevy Impala Super Sport Convertable. I leaned over and told Jessie, "That was my first car."
Mine was a '63 and was my Dad's car first. But he was driving a company car by the time I turned 16, at which point, it became my car--as did chauffering duties [had to have my sister at the Jr High at 6:00am the following morning--in the fog. Ugh!] But I really enjoyed that car. It held to the road, and I could zip up our hill easily. It was great for transporting large numbers in a day when few had seat belts, we just piled kids in and on higher! But I did have seatbelts installed, and required their use as much as possible. A convertable is also good for hauling stuff: like younger brother's drum set, and dorm mates bass viol to lessons in downtown San Diego. Little things would go wrong [by 1971 the speedometer went out, not to worry, the car made a different noise for every 10 miles an hour faster. I did not rush to fix the speedometer--my whole car was a speedometer.] I loved that car. I lost it in an argument involving a lady speeding, a stop sign and an old irrigation flume that the city had been supposed to remove a couple years earlier. The stop sigh cost $10.00, the city said "Thanks for removing the flume. The lady yelled at me, while she received a ticket for speeding. And my car was totaled. So sad.
The Parade continued with a nice vintage "cherry" [that's car talk for mint condition--thanks Tony, for my car education] Mustang. I leaned over to Jessie again, "and that was my second car, only mine was baby blue .
Ah yes, the Mustang era of our family: '65, '66, or '67, I forget which was which. My younger brother and I had our Mustangs at the same time, but mine had the more powerful engine. He became quite adept at changing out engines quickly and stealthily. Our house was up a very steep hill, so leaving the house I rarely realized the switch. Coming home was almost difficult with his engine. I'd walk into the house yelling [and trying not to laugh], "TO-NY!" Busted, and he knew it! Later Mom had a cherry, cherry-red Mustang, so among us, we had the 3 vintage years covered.
The third car in the parade--a Ford Model A. No, I never had that car, but my cousin did, and that was their car--not a show piece, but a vehicle they bought cheaply and drove 'til they could get something newer and better! Next came a couple of cars from the '40's--like one a boyfriend of mine had. That was it for me. I am officially old. The old cars in parades--my cars! Following were the requisite '55 Fords [yes, I remember, and rode in many of those] then a T-Bird with the porthole windows [from the '50's] A college boyfriend drove one of those.
Jessie was pretty impressed that I knew so many of the cars, but she was also impressed by how much older than her Mom I really am--she had never really realized it before! So that's it--I am officially old--betrayed by the cars I have known.
No comments:
Post a Comment