Falling In Love

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My first love happened when I was just a little tyke. She was so beautiful. To this day I can still picture her clearly. Elegant lines, smooth curves, and very racy. I was enthralled, entranced, maybe even speechless. Here was a lady that I could give my heart to. She was a 1967 RS/SS red Camaro with rally sport wheels, hidden headlights and a powerful, throaty engine. Art, poetry and superb engineering all rolled up into the sweetest car I'd ever seen.

My parents were the type that bought a new car and then drove it till the wheels fell off. We had that car until I was more than twenty years old. One would think that after all those years and miles I'd have gotten bored and tired of her. Never happened. Even when she was old and a bit tired, she still had a snarl and acceleration reminiscent of jet fighter. She'd had pretty good care taken of her, even though she'd been dented a few times due to some parking lot fender benders, my parents always had her lovingly repaired.

When I was seventeen she became my car. After all those years, I finally got her all to myself. Yep, the driver's seat had a hole worn in the red Naugahyde and some sun damage to the back seat, but the engine still had that sweet snarl and a serious kick in the posterior when the throttle was slammed to the floor. I still don't think I've owned another car that was more beautiful than she was.

She needed some work on the engine by that point, so I took out my first loan and rebuilt her heart. It was the best money I've ever spent. The paint was a bit oxidized and I was never quite able to fund a new paint job for her to bring her back to pristine condition, but even paintless she never lost her luster in my eyes.

She was my constant companion for the next two years. Like a lot of young lovers she really wasn't a good influence on me, performance and youth really aren't a good combination. I came close a few times to smearing myself all over the side of another car. She and I parted ways when I was 21...at the insistence of my parents. Even then I understood their reasons, but I still mourn her removal even after all these years.


About the Author:
PDQ Tools (http://www.pdqtools.com/) sell paintless dent removal tools. Art Gib is a frealance writer.



Article Originally Published On: http://www.articlesnatch.com


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