When I was about 15, I wrote a book for my gifted class. It was about 80 pages of collected stories and my adventures, (along with my father’s), on Route 66. We took my Camaro and drove to Shamrock Texas on 66. It was a fun trip but it wasn’t really the proper car. However, I digress. I ended the book with a short story about me, in my forties, having to keep a General Lee orange because my daughter liked it. It was a story about how I would like my future to be. I still read that now and then and wonder about my future. I guess something like that is normal at the age of 18. At least, I hope it is. I ended the story, and the book, by saying how it’s funny how life goes full circle sometimes. The thing is, that book feels a bit outdated. The green van that is mentioned in that story is already sold. We didn’t need the money, but my 1973 Monte Carlo did. No, that isn’t a typo. I have to get rid of the 1976 Monte Carlo body. My father and I spent an incredibly tiring day taking the ’76 to body shops. Every estimate was too high and would have sent the car well into the red. The decision was made that I needed another car so after scouring eBay I found a 1973 Monte Carlo. It is copper colored with a two-barrel 350. It was made in Texas and lived in Texas its whole life. I am technically the third owner but the second only put a crappy repaint on it and sold it after a month. The first owner, Bertha Jones, owned the car for forty years. Guessing from the odometer, she only drove it to church. My father braved the wilds of the interstates and drove down to Texas and picked it up for me. I better get him a cup that says world’s best dad or something like that. Anyways, I got the car up in the air and it is rock solid. Well, there is a small hole in the floor but the guy that wants my ’76 is a body man. I am hoping for some sort of trade for labor or something like that. Besides the body man wants to restore the ’76, which is a nice thought. At least it won’t be melted down for toasters or something like that. Next weekend, an engine swap will be done on the car and the ’76 motor will go into the ’73 so I will be sure to post something about that. I will admit that I feel a bit dumb, I should have figured out how much the ’76 would have cost to fix. I can’t say that it was a total loss though. It’s a lot like buying the project car first. However, I am going to miss it. I have spent a lot of time with it and it has become a friend. It will be hard to see it go, troubles and all. The thing that keeps me going though, is looking at the ’73. I can see my future in that car. I hope to find someone to fill the passenger seat and maybe even one-day, throw a car seat in the back. I was driving the ’73 around the other day and I couldn’t help but think how much better it will be faster. With my life moving at a million miles an hour these days, it will be nice to be able to drive something that will help me slow it down. My father owns a 1978 Chrysler New Yorker. I remember riding in it as a kid and being happy as can be. I remember the warm leather and the sweet smell of old exhaust. At that time I didn’t care that it wasn’t fast. All I wanted was a cool old car to ride around in. Maybe the ’73 can give that to my kid one day. Maybe, it can bring a smile to his or her face. Truthfully, nothing could make me happier. Sometimes it just isn’t about the car. No, sometimes it is so much more. Sometimes, it is about the warm smiles on hot July nights. It is about filling the passenger seat with someone you care about. It is about watching streetlights dance on the dashboard and laughter filling the air with a symphony of memories yet to come. In the end, the symphony is never about the car. However, I will admit, that a 350 adds an awful nice baritone.