My Dream Car
I've never been much of a car freak. I know guys who can tell you the make and model of a car as it screams down the street at 55 MPH.
"That's a '72," my brother John might say to my brother Jim.
How do they know? Who gives a poop?
One of my dream cars is pictured above.
Yep...the Scooby mobile.
I'd take that van and have it custom-painted like the van used by the gang as they solved crimes.
Or this one:
The Wally Wagon from Vacation. Our family had a couple of those. We drove one of my Dad's into the ground. There was so much room. We spilled a lot of food on the carpet of that car.
And man all it did was run perfectly.
Yet lately I've actually been thinking of one other vehicle.
You see as we grew up Dad would take us to the dumps in a Ford pickup truck. I recall one of them being light yellow. I'm sure there were other colors.
Dad would set us on his lap and allow us to steer as he coasted down Shirley Road. We all took turns.
I don't know the years of those old trucks. I'm sure Jim and John can recite the year and model and when the hell they met with their destruction.
I just know that the old feelings stir inside when I see one on the road somewhere.
"You should get one," John said. "You can work on it and get 'er running."
He laughed.
Doesn't he know that I changed out a taillight?
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@Tyra Shortino