Since I drove my car, and since I wrote about it. Here goes.

The air smelled different. Damp, yet fresh. The snow was gone, the roads were dry. But she didn't know that. I ran my hand along her side, on the blanket of NOAH that had tried to keep the winter chill off. Oh, she had been started a half dozen times since I told her it was time to sleep. Each time she never failed me. Oh, she worked at it a little, like the time there was an ever so slight layer of frost on her battery. Each time I could feel her disappointment. "You're not taking me anywhere, why should I start?" Yet she never failed. Her starter motor would turn, fuel and air would mix, and she would, grudgingly, cough to life.

But this day was different. I could feel it as I peeled the cover back. She could smell the air. I reconnected her battery, settled in her seat. I think she knew. It had been long enough, surely, she thought, the roads were bare today. She cranked, but it did not take as long today. November's 93 octane was married with March air in the AFB. Travelling down the runners, getting compressed, igniting, BAM! She was running. At first rough, but as the spring air filled her lungs, the idle smoothed out.

"Are we going out today?" Yes.

I slid the shifter to the big R. The familiar CLUNK, the one I have been hearing over 20 odd years of Mopars. The 727 worked it's blood through and back she drifted. Oh yeah, we were goin' for a ride!

Easy at first. She hadn't moved but a couple feet in nearly 6 months. She paraded down the street, almost prancing, look at me, I'm back! "come on, come on!" she teased. Not yet, let's warm up a little.

Almost as if on auto pilot, she led me to our favorite secluded on ramp. I watched the few cars ahead, and slowed. I wanted everyone to have a good head start. I knew full well that once she got to moving she was not going to want to stop.

Through the light, following the left turn arrow. We were here. Stop. Look around, the area was clear. Neutral. Blip the gas. She was warmed up. She was ready.

Drive. Left foot brake. Right foot gas. The tach climbed. She strained. Like a bronco, leaning into the gate, she torqued. I let her go. Off the brake, gas to the floor, 235 millimeters of Mr. Goodrich's finest howled from each rear corner. She slid to the right, just so. I watched the mirror, the cloud of hydrocarbons blurred the sight. The tires smoked. Through first gear, still spinning in second, finally the rubber caught the concrete and she ran. Oh how she ran. Third gear hit just as hard as it did last summer. The end of the ramp approached. Quickly. "let's go" she said, "LET'S GO!"

No, sorry. Traffic was looming, 85 would be it today. I backed off, she cruised effortlessly and merged. Just a couple miles to the next exit, I know she wanted more. I nailed the throttle a couple times, but she would have to be content with this for now.

Off the highway, "thank you" she said. "that was fun." We stopped to make the turn to the main road. I drifted out on the left hand bend and nailed it again. "WHOA!" she hollered, as her rear flung out to the right. "HEE HEE, HA HA" I knew that little goose had caught her by surprise, but oh how she loved it.

We drove the last bit home in silence. Feeling the comfort, the rapport, that can only come from the bond that is created when man builds a machine with his bare hands. When a pile of iron and steel is pulled together and given life. We eased up the alley, and i coaxed her back into the garage. There had always been a twinge of sadness each time I turned off the key after our little winter start-ups. But this time there was not. Summer was not far away. She would be free to run more often, her top down, living as she was meant. It won't be much longer, I whispered. "I know" she said. "cover me, I want to rest. I want to be ready when the weather turns."

I slid the cover back over her, feeling the warmth of the hood. I closed the garage door. She'll be ready. And so will I.

Now if anything belongs in The Best of Moparts this does!!!!!

almost brought a tear to my eye

AWESOME SIMPLY AWESOME

Is this the first chapter of a trashy "Car-lo-quin Romance"?

"COOL"......This should be a "sticky"

That was some fine writing. Very fine.

certiannly better than from the earth to the Moon.

HEY MODS CAN YOU PIN THIS???????

I think thats pretty cool. I'll stick a pin in it for a few days. Mike

That is AWESOME writing.. Sorta reminds me of the scene in "Gone in 60 Seconds" where Nicholas found Elanor. Where he was talking to her and caressing her.. That and the song by Rush, Red Barchetta.. Where he goes to his uncles farm and uncovers the sleeping beast.. Very nice

That was great!

Didn't you go by Graham on the old board? Your writing feels just like the writing a few years ago. I used to print the stories out and hang them on my wall. It helped me get through the winter, just knowing that these drives would be coming soon! Great work, and thank you!

Guilty as charged...

Thanks to all for the kind words. I actually used to be able to write, but the years take their toll. Every once in a while the proverbial creative juices dribble back, though.

That was beautiful. A man and his machine. I love it! Gonna have to print that one and save it.Can I use it in our club newsletter? I'll give you 100% credit for writing it.
Tim

Feel free to publish in your newsletter. you can just list me as Moparts member 67500vert. no other credit is necessary.

Just last night, I was trying to explain to my girlfriend my feelings for my car...she (the car) does have a personality, and she comforts me.

What I love most about our cars, is that when I am with them, everything is right with the world...my friends in Iraq are not getting blown up by cowardly homemade bombs, there's no research projects that are looming over my head, all of lifes stresses just melt away, and it's just me and machine. When Driving, washing, or working on my car, it's just me, and the car.

There always is that sadness when parking for the day. knowing that the fun time is over, and it's back to reality. When I go out, I usually take the longest way possible to get where I'm going. Sure, I could get to Wal-Mart with a short, 8 minute jaunt down I-25 at 70 mph, but instead, I take the back way, taking as long as 15-20 minutes, going 45-55.

The above story seems to capture that feeling perfectly.