"It Comes In An 8"

I’m a “car guy.”  I like cars.  I’m not one of those gear-headed, busted knuckle, build it from the frame up kind of car guys.  I’m the kind who understands and appreciates good and great cars for the value of the engineering, performance and aesthetics of a car.  I roll the window down in traffic when I’m next to a Mustang GT just to hear the visceral sound of the exhaust.  I do a double take when I pass a vintage Pontiac GTO or Camaro SS.  I also like convertibles – A LOT.

I can describe, in excruciatingly boring detail, every car I’ve owned.  My first car was a 1963 Pontiac Lemans.  The predecessor of the GTO – it was white with a red interior and a floor shifter with a large white knob on top.  I had it for almost 30 days.  It would burn rubber for a solid block, but wouldn’t go over 50 MPH.  Turns out the little old lady who owned it before me had a singular automotive strategy for petroleum products.  When she was low on gas, she added gas.  When she was low on oil, she added oil.  Unfortunately, she never changed the oil. 

My second car was a 1966 Impala convertible.  It’s the car that caused me to fall in love with convertibles.  I paid $625 for that car.  I lived in Michigan at the time and any time the temperature soared above 40 degrees, the top came down.  I recall having a lot of head colds while I owned that car.  From that point, there has been a steady stream of cars, a VW bug with a crank open sunroof, a couple of Chevelle Malibu’s, mini-vans and the beat goes on.

My wife, though the progeny of two GM employees, does not fully share my love for the automobile.  Yes, she will turn her head when I point out or comment on a car, but I rarely sense that her pulse rate has quickened at the site of a Porsche Cayman passing or vintage Austin Healy in the rear view mirror.  She’s not wrong, just different – or is it the other way? 

Because of this difference, I typically make the initial selection when replacing cars.  I have sound opinions and desires based on solid emotional evidence. 

That said, when we no longer needed a minivan, Donna and I agreed that we would buy her something I wanted.  A convertible.  The picture in my head was the two of us driving through the Blue Ridge Mountains on a sunny Saturday with the wind blowing through what was left of our hair – smiling in abject abandonment.  I was driving.

In my typical car buying style I began the process of elimination and settled on the Toyota Solara (two door Camry with a convertible top).  My reasoning in this selection was flawless.  The Solara is a Toyota, therefore reliable.  It is feature rich (meaning lots of gadgets for me to play with when I’m a passenger), had a back seat large enough for us to take two other Sr. adults on one of our idyllic hair blowing mountain rides and it was in our price range.

I did all of the core shopping and selection, showed Donna pictures and brochures and had her convinced that this was the car.  I drove to the local Toyota dealer, scoped out several good candidates, went on a solo test drive to assure she was getting what I wanted.  Then I made an appointment for Donna and me to test drive it together.  I even suggested that the salesman shine up the pretty red one and park it out front so it would be the first convertible she saw when we drove onto the lot.  The fix was in!!!

The test drive came and went on a Wednesday afternoon.  Donna enjoyed the drive and agreed that the Solara would be a fine choice.  However, I did not perceive an increase in her pulse rate during the discussion.  Her comments were dispassionate to the point that we could have been shopping for a blow dryer (come to think of it we were).  On the drive home we passed the Ford dealer.  You gearheads will understand the following conversation that took place as we were passing.

Donna:    “I’ve always wanted a Mustang.”

Tim:         “I’m not going to have a 6 cylinder Ford.”

Donna:    “It comes in an 8.”

The 2007 Mustang did come in an 8 cylinder model.  The only 8 cylinder model available in 2007 was the Ford Mustang GT.  It boasted a 4.6L V8 with 300 Horsepower @ 5750 RPM.  Zero-to-60 in 5.1 seconds with a quarter mile time of 13.8 seconds at 103 MPH.  YEAH, “it comes in an 8.”

Turns out that the “Fix” was in – just a different fix.  There had been some undisclosed research completed on the part of my bride prior to the car shopping trip. 

We made a U-turn and a couple of days later a Red Fire Metallic Mustang GT convertible named “Sally” was parked in the garage. 

For nearly 4 years that car became an extension of Donna’s identity.  She enjoyed it like no other car she ever owned.  One day she was parking at the local grocery store with my 90 year old mother in the passenger seat.  As she exited the car, a teenager in the parking spot next to her, observing a middle-aged woman getting out of a high performance car with a 90 year old woman, started to laugh.  Donna knocked on the window and asked if he was laughing at her.  His simple response was “Lady, that’s just wrong!!”

My friends, nothing was ever more right!!!!