Be Careful What You Wish For
I can't remember the exact number of Mustangs we counted during out ten day Hawaii trip, but it was an impressive amount. Ems, Carmel, Tabitha and I were very faithful in our counting. If we happened to be separated for different activity, the first thing we would do when we returned to the villa was tally our counts together. When we each picked out which color Mustang we would drive, we took the decision very seriously. We even made sure to get our picture with a nice flashy red one. (My sincerest apologies to the owner of this car - in defense I believe one of us did protest against sitting on a stranger's car)
After we left Hawaii, Mustangs were only merely a token by which we could remember the best vacation we had ever had.
When Paden and I started looking for a more fuel efficient vehicle (not to mention one I can see out of), a Mustang was the last one either of our minds. To me a Mustang meant luxury, it meant Hawaiian warmth in the dead of winter, it meant windy roads by crashing shorelines, it meant driving with the top down and letting wind mess up your hair. These are not typical attributes of my daily life. Or so I thought.
When we spontaneously decided to take a trip down to Wichita and visit the Morgan family while looking at a few cars, a Mustang was definitely not on the list. There was a some Japanese car starting with Mitsu at the top of the list. From what we saw on Craigslist, it looked like a steal of deal. Apparently it was, because it sold before we hit the road. There was also an adorable little white Volkswagen convertible that, according to Jeremy Morgan, would have threatened Paden's manliness. Oh, and there was this sweet Suzuki Sidekick. It was electric blue and looked like a ton of fun to drive. Then there was a 1990 Honda Civic at a mechanic shop that somebody never picked up. The only one we actually looked at was the Honda civic. But no air blew out of the vents and the passenger side door didn't close all the way. Seeing as we were not in a hurry to buy a car, we let that one go.
Back at the Morgan's, while Linda prepared some delicious tacos for lunch, Paden called about a few other cars. It is amazing how many people won't answer their phones. Finally, we got a callback and it was for the Mustang. His first reaction was to comment on how hideous the car was. But the price was rather attractive.
The man selling the white 1990 4Cyl Mustang clearly had an eye for beautiful cars. I didn't know a car could be so beautiful till I saw the Corvette in his garage among other fancy looking cars. Nestled among these beauties was our Mustang. It was love at first sight for me. It was clean, inside and out - even under the hood. Maybe it's not the sporty red, convertible Mustangs we counted in Hawaii, but maybe it is the name that counts after all.
I never believed I would actually drive a Mustang; perhaps this just goes to prove: be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
When Paden and I started looking for a more fuel efficient vehicle (not to mention one I can see out of), a Mustang was the last one either of our minds. To me a Mustang meant luxury, it meant Hawaiian warmth in the dead of winter, it meant windy roads by crashing shorelines, it meant driving with the top down and letting wind mess up your hair. These are not typical attributes of my daily life. Or so I thought.
When we spontaneously decided to take a trip down to Wichita and visit the Morgan family while looking at a few cars, a Mustang was definitely not on the list. There was a some Japanese car starting with Mitsu at the top of the list. From what we saw on Craigslist, it looked like a steal of deal. Apparently it was, because it sold before we hit the road. There was also an adorable little white Volkswagen convertible that, according to Jeremy Morgan, would have threatened Paden's manliness. Oh, and there was this sweet Suzuki Sidekick. It was electric blue and looked like a ton of fun to drive. Then there was a 1990 Honda Civic at a mechanic shop that somebody never picked up. The only one we actually looked at was the Honda civic. But no air blew out of the vents and the passenger side door didn't close all the way. Seeing as we were not in a hurry to buy a car, we let that one go.
Back at the Morgan's, while Linda prepared some delicious tacos for lunch, Paden called about a few other cars. It is amazing how many people won't answer their phones. Finally, we got a callback and it was for the Mustang. His first reaction was to comment on how hideous the car was. But the price was rather attractive.
The man selling the white 1990 4Cyl Mustang clearly had an eye for beautiful cars. I didn't know a car could be so beautiful till I saw the Corvette in his garage among other fancy looking cars. Nestled among these beauties was our Mustang. It was love at first sight for me. It was clean, inside and out - even under the hood. Maybe it's not the sporty red, convertible Mustangs we counted in Hawaii, but maybe it is the name that counts after all.
I never believed I would actually drive a Mustang; perhaps this just goes to prove: be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
That's one hott ride. But you can tell Jeremy that I would be more than willing to drive a convertible Volkswagen.
ReplyDeleteToo funny!
ReplyDeleteNot just any convertible VW. It was a white Cabriolet. Black? Red? Blue? Maybe he could have pulled it off. But white? That's just too much. Maybe they don't have the same stigma north of the border. :)
ReplyDeleteI will protest...I was not involved in the mustang counting in Hawaii...I was way above you all.
ReplyDeleteI'd like a ride sometime, please.
ReplyDeleteThere are a lot of stigmas we don't have north of the border, Jeremy...
ReplyDelete