MUSCLE CAR

Ours was a used car. Mom and dad had no use for new cars. They weren't broke in yet. All the kinks weren't worked out. When the calendar showed my 16th birthday fast approaching, they went and bought something big. And powerful. Something their baby girl could handle. That's right. Our family car became a 1970 Dodge Challenger...light gold metallic with a 440 hemi engine. Oh yeah, the muscle car. With mag wheels. What on earth was my father thinking? I handled that baby like butter. And don't let me leave the house p.o.'d at anything. I could burn rubber with the best of them. Oh so many memories in that car. I was designated "cool" and became everyone's "wheels" when there was anywhere to be going. My baby took us to the beach, the drive-in, the mall, and even church. I always carried an eclectic group of friends in high school. Robyn, Matthew, Danny, and I were buds. We would cruise the strip in Hollyweird and pretend we were celebrities. We would pile into the car on a hot summer day, windows rolled down, boom box radio blasting on the console, and head down to the beach. Rides home were always interesting as we would maneuver to change into our street clothes, brush the sand from our feet, and keep tempo on the dashboard to the tunes of Van Halen, Queen, and the Eagles.

I will never forget the feel of the wind blowing in my long blond hair, seeing my best friends slumped against the door, sound asleep after a long day of surf and sand and music. Woven into this tapestry of memory is music, always music... and the sound of that powerful engine as I fought to keep it under 90 on the way home. As the years rolled by, that car was my companion on a lot of clandestine journeys. Stalking trips past a certain boy's house, stopovers at the local pool hall to try and beat the house video games, ditching church, stripping down to our hidden bathing suits, and heading for Huntington Beach and the pier for some serious boy watching. Trying to convince mom and dad that the sand was there from last week's trip and the sunburn was from hanging out on the church patio listening to Sister Dorothy tell us about her children. Memories were created in that car. Sunsets watched. Nighttime city lights twinkling in the distance as we snuck up to Chantry Flats. Education happened in that car. I learned how to roll the mileage back so dad wouldn't realize we had burned a whole tank of gas headed out to a mall 70 miles from home. Distance was covered at 66 cents a gallon as we all set out on summer time adventures. Mojave Desert. Disneyland. Huntington Beach. Santa Barbara. I think my dad knew of our escapades. He trusted the car to bring me home... and it did just that. Regardless of the day's activities, secrets, or mysteries, I always slept safe and sound in my own bed. Dreaming of tomorrows - and the places we could go in my 1970 Dodge Challenger with the 440 hemi engine and the mag wheels that could burn rubber.