My musings, my rambles and I welcome you. |
I have a confession. I understand car lust. My first car started it all. The car I paid for myself with my first job. The one that I drove to college. The one that took me to my first real RN job was a Mustang. A 1977 green V8 which meant it could fly. For the first time, I understood my brother's need for speed. The power that car had...eat your heart out Andrettis, Mario, Michael and Marco. I grew up in the Mid-West and the land is very flat, so we have straight-a-ways. A cop once clocked me at 95mph in 55. Come on, though. It was 4:00 a.m. after a long 16hr shift. I just wanted to get home. And those horses could move. I didn't even try to get out of the ticket. I was too tired and too angry at getting caught (ah youth). "Miss, do you know how fast you were going?" said the cop in a professional manner. "Yes sir. I do." I replied. "You were going 95. Where's the fire?" "No fire sir, just got off shift and I want to get home. I have to work later today." He glared, I swear, glared at me for a long time. "You work at...R?" "Yes sir." "Well slow down or you'll be back sooner than you like." He sees my uniform and gives me a ticket for going 65 instead of 95. Very nice of him (although at the time I was not happy) because it meant less points and a lesser fine. Anyway, I have loved Mustangs ever since, but they are not practical especially where I live now. One day though, one day. My car is probably scrap somewhere. I drove that Mustang until it needed a bullet in it's radiator to put it out of it's misery. What my car looked like back in the day "1977 Mustang" |