I Remember...

..."grubbing up' money for gas and just getting a gang and going somewhere. I discovered when I finally "got wheels" (a 1954 Plymouth "business man's coup," which meant no back seat, originally owned by the Washington Gaslight Company, and the iconic little old lady who only drove it to church on Sunday) that I had friends I was formerly unaware of. Maintenance in those days consisted of buying a "tune up kit" and getting a shade tree mechanic to put them in for you for maybe a six pack or something---in ONE case, ten pounds of chitterlings for my friend June Bug. When the Plymouth messed up and needed a new carburetor, it was my fortune that my friend Mert Hager was a mechanic for the Washington Gaslight Company, had no doubt serviced that car at that time, as he was a veteran close to retirement, and he brought a brand new, 1954 Plymouth carburetor from the shop. (Remained in the inventory thought they had long ceased to need them) No charge. I was back on the road. That ole Plymouth was pretty dependable. No A/C, nor radio, couldn't afford an 8-track player. It was a six volt system, anyway. But I'd haul these new friends to school and back.
One was a mysterious, very sexy, pre-Goth chick with black hair, weariing a garter belt and stockings (under her dress) which was short. She lived in a home where everyone was adopted. When others exited the old car, she did not slide over toward the door, but snuggled up to me. I'll admit, my heart did some funny things. As she exited my car, she leaned over and kissed me passionately, her mouth cold and a chill ran down my spine. I do not know her name, I had never seen her before nor since. Sometimes, I think it was but a dream, but it was, quite real. I will always wonder whatever became of the raven haired beauty...