This is Lucy in her glamour shot. She’s 11 years old and doesn’t act a day over 5. I’m sure a lot of people manage to keep their car both in perfect working order and clean as a whistle. I am not one of those people. I keep her running right, but before today, it’s had been a really, really long time since Lucy had had a wash and wax. After 11 years, she’s not perfect, but the finish is so soft right now.
While the guy was working on her, we started talking about vehicles we grew up with, like my father’s 1979 Bronco with the automatic rear window and my mom’s yellow VW bug that the horse sat on. It made me think about Lucy and everything we’ve been through. I was sitting in the front seat when my neurologist told me that I had epilepsy and the next seizure could kill me. It’s the car in which I brought Hank down from Kentucky, and the car that moved me into my first home. A load of memories wrapped up in a fire engine red package.
What car sparks the most in your memory?