Ohhhhhhhhhh thank you for the laugh out loud at your shredded calves! Still smiling. And thank you for awakening memories of a young hot woman who loved hot cars and hot men who loved hot cars. Phew, all this heat and I am past menopause. And not past the warmth of loving these rememberings. I shined up my own cars and carefully placed huge bright daisy decals on rust holes. A Chevrolet dealership was my first job. I knew the specs of all the cars. I knew who slept with whom among the salesmen and office women. I very quickly learned that some slick handsome salesmen in suits would grope and grab at any moment they thought they would not get caught. A few may still have some marks. And smile at the memories of cars and men. And smile and wonder how he told his wife he got those scratch marks.
Thanks for the returning the gift of laughter back to me. This is a great mini essay in itself for a good Substack post. Feel free to share mine with others.
Oh, Peter, as so often you have made my day. I had a '64 Mailbu myself; since it's been pracrticality over everything else. Plus, a brand new Malibu coststs 2300 dollars! Oh, wait: that was in 1964. Than ks as always.
As I always say, Syd, YOU are my ideal reader. I know that when you're pleased, I've written something good, though, for me, that good feeling lasts a day, and then I go back to self-questioning.
Ohhhhhhhhhh thank you for the laugh out loud at your shredded calves! Still smiling. And thank you for awakening memories of a young hot woman who loved hot cars and hot men who loved hot cars. Phew, all this heat and I am past menopause. And not past the warmth of loving these rememberings. I shined up my own cars and carefully placed huge bright daisy decals on rust holes. A Chevrolet dealership was my first job. I knew the specs of all the cars. I knew who slept with whom among the salesmen and office women. I very quickly learned that some slick handsome salesmen in suits would grope and grab at any moment they thought they would not get caught. A few may still have some marks. And smile at the memories of cars and men. And smile and wonder how he told his wife he got those scratch marks.
Thanks for the returning the gift of laughter back to me. This is a great mini essay in itself for a good Substack post. Feel free to share mine with others.
Oh, Peter, as so often you have made my day. I had a '64 Mailbu myself; since it's been pracrticality over everything else. Plus, a brand new Malibu coststs 2300 dollars! Oh, wait: that was in 1964. Than ks as always.
As I always say, Syd, YOU are my ideal reader. I know that when you're pleased, I've written something good, though, for me, that good feeling lasts a day, and then I go back to self-questioning.
Well, Lord save us both from imagining wqe just have it all figured out. Keeps us going, self-doubt.
Peter, thanks for the pop culture parade with accompanying
soundtrack.
I am reminded of my childhood best friend's father ferrying us
around town in a '66 AMC Rambler 4-Door Classic with a
manual 3-speed steering column shifter.
It's true that the car is a masculine space: a mobile man cave.
BMW once recalled its GPS systems because some owners
would not take instruction from what they perceived to be
the computer's nagging female voice.
What a wonderful detail in the last sentence. That's says more about our gender than a whole book could so.