Whenever an official American holiday takes out a Monday, its like hitting a Triple Word Score square at the end of a competitive game of Scrabble with the word “Quiz” while clearing your tiles.
Yesterday was that kind of day. I had to take care of some smaller projects, like rehanging a blind trim over the top of one of the front kitchen windows that had been down for over a year. I had the trim safely hidden behind my cool walking stick collection right by the front door, but somehow Lisa ferreted it out and commanded that it be returned to the spot no one had noticed.
Well that meant a trip to the Ace Hardware store in Berthoud, which is akin to going to Sam Drucker’s General Store in Green Acres, where I have developed a friendship with a number of the employees because it usually takes me three trips to the store before I get the right bolt, pipe, tool, wire for the job because I never measure anything, I just eyeball it. And repeatedly get it wrong until I get it right.
I also have a tendency of rebuying things because I am so disorganized that it is quicker for me to go buy a duplicate whatever then it is to scrounge around my workshop looking for the one I already bought.
Anyway, this boondoggle was worth it because right across the street from ACE, where there is a greenbelt park bordering the railroad tracks, some local Berthoud Organization was holding an end of summer, curbside car show.
Now there has only been one Mustang that I ever drove regularly, and it was a 1965 Coupe that looked like this
Only it was Baby Blue and much more run down. It served as the Security Car at Mount St. Vincent’s (now University) College where I worked the graveyard shift as a Security Guard in the mid 70s, during the halcyon Aunt Violet Flop House days and looked something like this,
If you have the paperback version of FJM, there is a clearer shot in the Acknowledgement section, but I digress.
But I did get to drive that Mustang around the neighborhood whenever it ran low on gas from its prolific and prophylactic nocturnal circuits around that wonderfully scenic Hudson River Campus, where it also once chased me and a few of my conspirators during a notorious (an well received – our first Catholic girl cat calls) mass streaking of the campus (which for the record remains alleged and apocryphal) when I was just a little younger (before the school went coed), at least that is how the story goes, there clearly was alcohol involved, so during my later working tenure as the fox in the hen house, the muscle car was sometimes spotted parked outside of Coaches II during the wee hours of my usual night shift as part of the dueling refueling process.
Anyway, I did enjoy driving it, especially at night, so when I came upon a much prettier and souped-up version of another ’65 Mustang at this car show, I almost squealed in delight.
Now I am not the type of car aficionado that can rattle off all of the wonderfully warranted bits and pieces about cars, so I will leave you with this resource.
And while Sean Connery drove a Mustang in Goldfinger, who can forget Steve McQueen’s Bullit Mustang racing over the hills of San Francisco.
And that car held its value.
https://www.cnn.com/2020/01/10/cars/bullitt-mustang-auction-record-price
But any young man of my generation who was lucky enough to place his (then skinny) sorry ass in a bucket seat behind the steering wheel of a 60s Mustang – for even a moment – felt his testicles grow to scale with the Grinch’s Christmas Day Heart.
Which actually had the same recovered Grinchy impact on our view of the world at the time, as well as greatly improved our love life.
So it goes with small town living. You may not have the 24/7/365 access to excitement that 60 years in the Big Apple provides, which, unfortunately, can leave one feeling a little numb from overstimulation, but after a while the sensitivity returns and stimuli like a muscle car from your youth can bring back that fluttery feeling in your jeans.
Which made going home to a wife who expects me to do manly things around the house that much more rewarding.
Well, my fine, five readers, Tuesday is again upon us, so let’s slowly dip our toes back into reality.
And no matter what else we get up to, let us make today a great one.
5 Responses
I didn’t know you actually used to HAVE a Mustang!! You lucky dog!! I’ve always wanted one
Nah, it belonged to MSV. I just got to drive it.
After the detour to the car show, did the blind trim get fixed?
Eventually.
I had 2 different mustang convertibles, one Atlantic Blue, and the other one a real great looking yellow (can’t remember the name of the yellow). It was really major fun when riding the empty deserts of New Mexico in the evening. I did get it up to 120 for a short span of time, Although the spedometer went up to 120, the steering, gearing, and rear end were not really made to go that fast very far. Lucky there were no cars on the side of the road with two big red flashing bubblers on the top.