This evening on our quest for the perfect pumpkin, we drove past one of those car graveyards called "Pick A Part", and outside on the side of the road was this beauty. We both laughed out loud at the same time and I made HF pull over to get a good picture of it on his phone. You gotta love the paint job. In case it's hard to see, on the door that's painted white, they painted a gold star and on top of that, 'Sheriff'. I'm thinking it was used at some kind of demolition derby before being dropped off here.
Speaking of demolition derbies, I'm having a flashback. When I went to college, I left my home state of California for the very first time, and was totally enthralled by all the cowboys I was suddenly surrounded by. I ended up dating one of these cowboys for over a year. I have to say one of his hobbies on the weekend was to drive to neighboring countryside towns and check out the possible derby cars parked all over people's yards. I was a little embarrassed by this, but hey, I wanted to experience this strange and new (for me) life firsthand. He was mostly doing it because he thought it was funny, but he loved going to these derbies (and taking me with him). Finally one day, he found the perfect car. It was a green 1972 Chrysler Newport. It was a great big boat of a car. I remember him saying, "Baby, this dashboard lights up like a noon day sky!" He got it ready for the derby and as a final touch he rigged the trunk so that at some point while he was driving around in the derby, he could pop the trunk open and inside he had somehow made a giant hand that sprang out and flipped off all the other drivers.
Classy, I know. My parents were so proud.
HF gives me a hard time about those days sometimes. He and I were friends during this time, both wanting so much more but he lived out east and I was out west. I remember telling him these stories on the phone and he would be like, "What are you doing with this guy?!" But I had a good time.