When I had initially looked at the twisted scrap metal that has become my once glorious black Dodge truck, I could only shake my head as I blew smoke out of my nose and mouth simultaneously. My mother thought I would cry when they towed her away, the shattered wreckage the constant reminder of why women should not be allowed to drive.
She's come around the corner hard, and hadn't seen my poor old girl parked on the road. She's lucky to be alive.
But if there's one thing that can make life a little bit better, and make you realize that certain things are blessings in disguise, it's looking at the brand new silver Mustang that resides where your old girl once was. Leather interior, old school grill, and a purring engine... and it's like the movies, when the lights fade out in the background and "Blue Moon" starts playing and the object of your affection comes to the forefront of the scene and your heart skips a couple dozen beats.
I've got my Eleanor now... and my God, she is straight fuckin' pimpin.
Someone in my family looked at me, and looked at the car, and shook their head. "You know, as you get older, the guido's startin' to come out in you more and more."
"Oh I know. It's horrific... but I can't help it... all I need now is that red pepper thing that those fuckers hang in their rear window."
"It's a horn."