Number 40?

I've always found it strange when someone has the same car for years, I mean I get the appeal, financial stability and well some cars just fit you so well you make a bond and they become family. I've only been in car love a twice. My first car, a 1979 Saab 900 GLi.

It was my Grandfather's car that I bought from him with money I made fishing in Alaska. I was 15, and one night I snuck the car out at the adult acting age of 15 with a friend to drive around the Island. We ended up jumping the car 127ft through the air before doing 360's spins for a 1/4 of a mile and coming to rest backwards in a ditch. My Father made me fix the car and drive it for the next two years. I miss it's airplane cockpit cabin and ignition down on the floor and the way it's odd egg shaped silhouette would swallow three bales of hay, but not the way it flew. I'm suspicious of it's Airplane heritage the way it fell nose first from the sky.

I can still remember the smell of that car, like it always had a fuel leak, and the disconnected feel of the shifter and every time I see one of those quirky Swedes I melt.

I traded the Saab to a Croatian man for a 1967 Lincoln Continental Coupe that had been sitting in a barn for twenty years.

There was so much dust and chicken crap on the car you could barely tell the car was white. The first time I sat in her she felt like home. Much what I imagine Arnold felt like in the movie Christine when he slid behind the wheel of that haunted 57 Fury. Instead of the scent old Chrysler Vinyl, I  was greeted with a musty waft of hand worked leather seats and and one of my favorite examples of functional automotive art.

I spent the next month making the road worthy and had the car for twelve years. The liquid torque that she had and the way she would glide past 100 mph like a supersonic sofa, the Concorde had nothing on her. Bad decisions and my twenties made me abandon the car and my dreams of being buried in it. 

I had one more Saab, and two more Lincoln's and well, maybe about 38 other cars from almost every other brand except Nissan, but none have made a home in my heart yet like those two. My daily commute has me back in American Eco Luxury by the name of a carefree plastic West Coast Haven... Malibu. Sexy and sinister, like the Bat mobile Sans Balls.

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