Little Red Mustang

I used to drive a 1982 Red Ford Mustang. She wasn't particularly fast for a Mustang and had worn-out seats, faded-red interior, a leaky transmission, and until I replaced it, a real shitty radio. But she was a Mustang, she was red, and she was mine.

I drove the hell out of that car in the 2 ½ years that I had her. When I owned her, I lived 30 miles from school and 30 miles from work... in opposite directions. I went to school everyday and to work three times a week. I put almost 500 miles on that car and about 3 tanks of gas (at $7.00 a pop) in her a week. The gas gage was broken, so I never knew if I was filling her up or not, but I was paranoid about getting stranded in the barren Iowa cornfields between school and home or work and home. (These were the days before every three year old had his own cell phone.)

But I was young and right out of college. I had two good jobs, excellent credit, and was saving money. I got tired of worrying about the amount of gas in my tank and having to dump a quart of transmission fluid in her every week to ten days. So, I came to a life-altering decision: Should I take the money I had saved and get the transmission fixed and drive her for another 2-5 years or should I take the money and use it to put a down-payment on a bright, shiny, new car?

You guessed it. I decided to go with the bright, shiny, new car. So, I took some pictures of my Mustang, removed the stereo, and folded the seat covers up and put them away. I kept telling myself, "She's only a car," as they gave me $500 credit towards my new car and took her away.

In my worst nightmares she never got another chance. She went straight to the scrap-heap and was crushed into a cube no bigger than my fist. In my far-flung hopes, they fixed her transmission and she served another kid until he or she got the new car itch.

A year later, my bright, shiny, new car had been in a wreck and was totaled. A year and a half later, my 2nd bright, shiny, new car had been repossessed and I was driving a four door 1980 Chevy Malibu with the stereo and memories of my Mustang in it. And now every time I see a Mustang, new or old, driving down the street I silently curse myself because I really wish I had fixed the damn transmission in my little red Mustang and kept on driving her.

photo by blondelibrarian

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