cosmic debris

I think I'm about out of Mustang stories for now. But here are a few quickies:

• when it was still black primer we drove it to Key West. All the locals waved to us like we were locals. Very cool.
• a hubcap careened off on I-77 southbound just after that big collision center on the right, just before the bridge before exit 25. It's probably still there if you look down in the bushes.
  
• this is also the spot where the head gasket blew, on a different day.
• when it rained, sometimes even with the hood vent cover on, my feet got wet.
• it had spiders. little tiny spiders. so I used alot of Raid. I got pulled over late one night and the cops were bored, so they called for backup and searched the car. One cop came back and asked,'what's that SMELL?' Well officer, what does it smell like? "Smells like...Raid!' To which I of course reply, that's what it is. He appeared to question it, like who in the world would use Raid in the car?
• when I moved to North Carolina I had my uncle pack the enchanted trunk. We still talk about it.
• when I requested a deep dark blue for the new paint, the &^%** at the paint shop refused to do just dark blue, and added all sorts of NASTY shiny fleck to offset the imperfections. I embraced the minor dent defects, but this #%^* did it his way in the end. I cried for days. If it happened now, I'd insist he do it my way as I was the one paying for the service.
  

the Jerry Lewis moment

For the immediate I was traumatized, distraught, devastated. It was not funny until a few weeks later.It's still rather embarrassing to tell, but if we all don't share moments like these, where does our mirth sharing begin?

I went to the AutoZone for the daily supply of oil and yet another attempt to resolve the altenator/selenoid problem. The car was parked with the engine facing the store, and I popped the hood, putting in the daily quart, and for reasons I no longer remember, I used a wrench on the selenoid to start the engine. It started. That's when it happened. At first it was one of those surreal moments you're not really sure you're seeing what you're seeing. The car began to roll away from me. When I realized it wasn't just rolling away but moving with speed and power, I ran after it. I couldn't get the door open to jump in and hit the brake. I thought about diving head first through the window and mashing the brake with my hand but thought ahead (in the lightning moment) to the impact and how it would injure my back with me hanging out of the window. So I chased and screamed, flailing my arms like Jerry Lewis. The Mustang didn't just moved backwards in a straight line, it curved around to the right. It missed the shiny new Lexus and collided with an old '67 Ford pickup truck. But the pickup didn't stop the Mustang. The Mustang, still in it's maniacal serpentine, grated itself on the edge of the steel bumper of the truck from the right rear wheel well to the front right. The entire right side panel was destroyed, yet the window was intact. It hung itself up long enough for me to reach in and turn off the ignition. Hyperventilating and I'm sure babbling incoherencies and waving my arms up and down like I was trying to fly away, I circled the carnage. One guy came over and with great awe in his voice exclaimed, "whoa.....look at all that bondo..." which was strewn across the parking lot. Remember the pickup truck? The guy who owned it was sitting in the driver's seat. I staggered over to the left side window, and he just looked at me for what seemed an eternity. He rolled down the window, and said, 'what happened?' I'm sure I made no sense at all as by now I was sobbing in fear. I was sure he was going to jump out of his truck and scream at me and possibly try to beat me silly for what happened. He didn't. He slowly got out of his truck, said he'd just been sitting there eating his lunch and felt a bump, what was that anyway? We surveyed the damage, and amazingly, although the whole right side of the Mustang was smashed in, looking like it was t-boned, there was only a 1/4 inch splash of blue paint on the truck's bumper, the bumper completely level and intact.

road service

Before I moved to North Carolina someone sent me a list of things to know about living in the South. Like, if you're driving behind someone who's only going 8mph, be patient because they learned how to drive on a John Deere and that's as fast as they go. The tip related to the Mustang is if your car breaks down, don't panic; within ten minutes a truckload of rednecks will arrive to help. If you've ever had a classic Mustang (or another form of hoopty-car) you may also know the value of AAA plus with the free 50 miles of towing. When I lived in Florida, every time a part wore out or fell off I was either at the house or the office. I never got stuck on the side of the road, and I thank divine intervention and Father Tom's blessings for that. In North Carolina I often got stuck on the side of the road or going down the off ramp of I-77. And always, within 5-10 minutes, someone (usually a truckload of rednecks) stopped to push the car off the road, and either fix it or give me a ride to wherever I was going. Anytime the Mustang crapped out, I just took a deep breath, got out and waited. A big thank you to all of you who stopped to help me.

a breezy ride

Heat. It use to have heat, but living in South Florida I never got to use it. And I never got around to installing the vent that would close the airflow in at my feet. Without a/c if I got up enough speed with the windows open (especially helpful was that little triangle window) and the vent wide open, there was enough breeze to keep me from melting, so I just left it knocking around in the trunk with the half used cans of primer paint. I didn't get the car painted for a few years, so every time it got too dirty I'd spray it and it'd look good as new. When I moved to North Carolina I neglected to fix the heat or install the vent. Instead, in the winter I wore my LL Bean boots and layers of wool and fleece, and peeled like a banana once I got to work. Even so, by the time I got there I'd be half frozen. I once tried to do a house call to a friend's across town, got lost, and ended up in the beginning stages of hypothermia. I got confused about the directions he had given me, and finally drove back to the Redneck bar where I could warm up and start again. By the time I got there I was so disheveled the bartender thought I'd been in an accident. I could barely sputter, 'c-c-c-offfeee'. I called William to let him know I was running late and he said he'd just come get me. When he arrived, so did the snow. As it's a rarity here, we decided to wait it out, but should have left immediately. Several hours and inches of snow covering later, his housecall postponed, I limped home and was amazed at how decent the Mustang drove in the snow.

the Mustang Club

Just like being expected to kindly wave to other Harley riders when you yourself are on one, when you drive a pony, anyone else in a classic Mustang will wave at you. I was automatically in the Mustang Club. Rules of the road. You wave to your kind. So I thought. When I first bought the Tacoma I automatically waved to the Mustang drivers I passed. Most of them waved back, but this is North Carolina. You always wave back. So I thought, well, now I'm in the 4wd Tacoma Club. I waved to the other Tacomas. What a bunch of snobs. No one wanted to wave back, but a few reluctantly did. I think just because when in NC....you wave. I love my truck, but I miss my Mustang. Even though it didn't have heat or a/c.

my 15 minutes of fame

not related to the mustang stories, but one worth a telling. In high school (1983 or '84) I went with a carload of friends to see the Ramones at the Agora Ballroom in Connecticut. During the show I jumped up on stage, ran over to Dee Dee and gave him a sideways hug. I then ran over to Joey and got to DANCE WITH JOEY RAMONE! I don't remember what song they were playing; those days they played everything so fast you could barely sing along or even tell which they were playing. But we loved them anyway. Naturally, none of the people I went to the show with saw me up on stage.

you there! Helllllooooo!!!

I left work, and once I got on the highway there was a short with the horn connection. Every time I turned the steering wheel -even a little bit-the horn would blare. Not really having any options until I got off the highway in 4 exits I began waving at everyone who looked at me when the horn beeped. Some folks waved back, especially if I smiled and waved like I knew them. I got off my exit and figured my best bet was to head to the Redneck Bar to get help with figuring out how to fix the wayward beeping. It was a mile and a half to the bar, but naturally I got stuck behind a big truck going 15mph. As the Mustang beeped every time I moved the wheel I figured the other drivers thought I was some unreasonably irritable twit from the North who couldn't bear to drive at such a pace. (round these parts if someone drives 5-15mph it's accepted that it's what they're use to having learned how to drive on a John Deere.) By the time I got to the bar everyone was lined up in the parking lot, some doubled over with laughter. Those that weren't incapacitated with mirth cheered as I pulled in.