Not everyone will be able to participate in this game, but you can always stick around to read the comments.
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1976 Plymouth Fury. She wasn’t pretty…
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But she was a behemoth with a powerful V-8.
I was 16, dating a much older man who drove me and my girlfriends around whenever we wanted to drink and get loud. Looking back, it wasn’t exactly kosher…. but not much of my teenage years was.
We had the radio cranked up, flying down some long deserted country road we’d never travelled before. My guy was driving dangerously fast, not that we realized it at the time… and then poof. The road disappeared from under us as we crested a hill we didn’t know was there.
Airborne? You betcha. We landed with a thud, broke the frame of the car and were damned lucky we lived to tell the tale.
I saw the speedometer reach 115+ … so I’m counting it.
We all know what passes for news these days is a joke. Gone are the days when reporters simply reported the facts and let you make up your own mind. Now there are left leaning stations and right leaning stations and we only listen to what we want to hear from those who reinforce views we already hold.
It’s a sad state of affairs.
And who determines what’s newsworthy? These days it’s probably based on the number of clicks… and that’s sadder still.
A while back I was scrolling through articles on my phone and saw this:
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Yes, this is what passes for news. A mother might have been scolding her child.
Alert the media!
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I think anyone who has had to deal with a teenage boy can relate to the “judgmental finger” but honestly…. did I need to know this? No.
Success was hard won, but after another full of month of fruitless used car shopping, we finally found one for our niece.
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A 2012 Subaru Impreza hatchback which cost a lot more money than I planned on spending for a 19 year old’s first car…. but welcome to pandemic era shopping.
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The economy is iffy and people aren’t buying new, which means they aren’t trading old, which means a complete lack of decent inventory on the lots. The pickings are extremely slim in Maine and unless you’re willing to spend $11,000 plus (I wasn’t) or buy something with 225,000 miles (also a no) good frickin’ luck.
Thankfully the dealership where she fell in love with this one allowed us to drive it an hour away to have our trusty mechanics/old friends give it a thorough once over.
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They found a few minor things it needed, while this fellow looked on…
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Hey, our friends run a high class garage…. and can apparently fix anything. Including the tin man.
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Okay, as evidenced by their Hooter calendar…. maybe not that high class.
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But they’re experienced and kind enough to examine the car for free, so I’ll excuse a few scantily clad bimbos.
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The car won their seal of approval… after telling us it needed new tires… and our niece let out an audible sigh of relief.
Time to celebrate.
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At the closest restaurant to the dealership while they got the paperwork together.
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Cheers to a young girl’s first car!
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And a hearty home style lunch. Corn and bacon chowder with a hot turkey sandwich for me. That damn thing was so big I ate off it for 3 days.
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Signing her own paperwork. With a man who needs serious instruction on mask protocol.
Big smiles and key in hand.
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A final hug for the best aunt and uncle on earth.
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A thumbs up behind the wheel…. and off she went back to college.
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One extremely happy camper.
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 