I’m currently reading The Mummers’ Curse by Gillian Roberts. Today I read the phrase “My classic Mustang” and I was immediately whisked back to 1969 and the first car I owned. It was a 1967 Mustang, white, with vinyl bucket seats. I loved that car. The pastor of the church I attended at that time had some connections and purchased it for me at a car auction in Chicago. He drove it back Missouri and I, of course, repaid him. Unfortunately, the car did need some repairs but that didn’t stop me from giving it my heart. The repairs were made and I drove that car for several years.
I felt so sophisticated when behind the wheel. I took my sister in that car to buy her wedding dress. Mom’s wheelchair was loaded into the trunk so we could go to the monthly travel programs at Washington University. My dad worked the evening shift so that car became Mom’s independence too.
I took my first summer road trip in that car. It didn’t have air conditioning but I cooled the interior by placing a foam cooler in front of the passenger seat and cracking the lid just a bid. The air from the vent blew across the ice in the cooler and I was comfortable. I remember that trip started out with me going to Oklahoma to see some friends and then I drove to the Smokey Mountains. We racked up some miles together, that Mustang and I.
It was only three words but what a host of memories they unleashed.