The other day I was having lunch with my friend Judy. She told me her grandson just passed his driver’s license test and was thinking about buying his first car.  That got Judy and I on the subject of cars we’ve owned and loved over the years.
I told her my very first car was a 1972 Ford Maverick, a very special vehicle in my life. That car never, ever, let me down. From snowstorms to springtime mud it not only got me where I needed to go, but it made me feel like it was protecting me in the process. I would pat its dashboard and say, “We can do this.â€Â And we did.
Very few people believe me when I tell them the Maverick would start to moan on very cold subzero winter nights. Because it sat outside at the farm I had to plug it in over night—a necessity if it was to start the next morning.  Then, around one or two in the morning, it would begin making this weepy, mournful sound. “Heaaaaaaa….Heaaaaaa….HeeeAAAAA…â€
Since it was parked beneath my mom and dad’s bedroom window, Mom would hear it “crying,” as she described it. She would grab a blanket, go outside, and tuck my car in by placing the blanket over the hood. The moaning stopped almost instantly. If a car could be alive, my Maverick was, and it captured my heart for all times.
Judy said one of her all-time favorite cars was a little black convertible. From the moment she stepped out of work the top came down and she drove home in pure freedom and bliss.
One day her husband called her at the office and said she would find a different car in the parking lot. When she asked where her car was, he admitted he had traded it in because he knew someone who was looking for a car like hers. Judy was livid. There had been no discussion about this, and worse, her new replacement car was the type an old fuddy duddy would drive.
I felt her pain. When you love a car selling it off is like betraying a friend. All those memories made on four wheels stay with you, stay in you.
Talking about great cars we’ve known and loved? It was the best part of my day.
