What i said now…let me say it one more time.
You been running all over town…OH!
Gotta put your flat feet on the ground…
Ride, Sally, ride.
I picked this name so I can speak freely. Free is how the song Mustang Sally always makes me feel. If I could pick one moment in time when I was truly and perfectly happy it would be driving my high school car – a 1977 gold Mustang II with white vinyl interior and a rolling sunroof – down a dirt rode in Missouri in the steamy summer heat with the windows open and not a care in the world. Barefoot and all of 97 pounds in cut-off jean shorts and a 99c. tube top sipping an ice cold Cherry Limeade.
It’s hard to believe I don’t have one single picture of that car. It looked like this:
The Mustang cost $600 and I only had it for a few months before bottoming out the radiator over a sneaky curb. The car didn’t run that well anyway. There was something (many things) wrong with it and no one in my family was mechanically-inclined enough to do anything about it. After a couple of months of owning it, the car would start immediately but wouldn’t go into gear for about 5 minutes. Then it was 10, then 20. Every morning before school my little sister, bless her 14-year old heart, would tramp down the alley in the snow to the side street where the car was parked and sit in the cold waiting for it to kick in so she could “drive” forward a few feet. I thought for sure one day she’d tell me to go screw myself but she never did.
Mmmm, mmm, mmm. To be seventeen again.
Guess you better slow that Mustang down