To most, she's just a car, and an old, beat up one at that. To me, she's Big Blue, my 1968 Ford Galaxie 500.
302 cubic-inch V-8, Fleet package(heavy duty steering, cooling, suspension, rear axle), Automatic Transmission, and Baby Blue.
She's one of the few things that have kept me....sane, over the years. Washing her, waxing her, tuning her up. It was all theraputic. Every time I was angry or depressed, I went out to tinker on her. She never judged me or made fun of me. She just sat there, and let me find new things to do with her. Many times I daydreamed of cruising the Seawall down on Galveston in her, windows down, cool salt air blowing.
The first time I saw her, it was a cold, rainy day down in La Porte. My dad almost crashed his truck when I yelled at him to stop. She was sitting in a used car lot. The asking price was $5500. She ran and drove, although she tried to go sideways several times in the rain. I had, at the time, $5,000 given to me by the Social Security Administration, because I was an underage minor that lived with a disabled man(my dad) who just went on Social Security Disability. I was young and stupid, and there was a Big Blue Ford sitting in a used car lot that was calling to me.
After hasty negotiations, we agreed upon 5,000 cash drive out. We took her home later that week, driving cautiously with her attached to a tow-dolly.
While I never would admit it, she has been for sale since the first day I got her, with an unofficial asking price of $10,000. I've never put a for sale sign on her, and I've only told people she was for sale as a joke. Because, if I found anyone that could come up with 10-Large in cash, Hell, they could have her.
Well, someone came. They offered me $7,000 for her as-is, $10,000 if I get her running again. My dad told me flat out that I have less than a month to get her running again, or I'll have to sell it.
It's like in Ol' Yeller, when the boy had to kill his dog. That's the way it feels to me. It hurts. Bad.
But, I know he's right. I need the money, and she's just sitting there, slowly getting covered in dust and vermin droppings. Not three houses down is a 1970 Chevrolet C/10 pickup truck that runs and drives, and the guy's only asking $1,500. I can use that as a new toy.
....this must be what it's like to be dumped by someone. It feels like someone ripped my heart out, and stomped on it. Years of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, going down the drain.
Should I sell her, and take the much-needed money and get things that I desperately need, or should I cling to her blue steel body like a mother clings to the body of her dead son?
302 cubic-inch V-8, Fleet package(heavy duty steering, cooling, suspension, rear axle), Automatic Transmission, and Baby Blue.
She's one of the few things that have kept me....sane, over the years. Washing her, waxing her, tuning her up. It was all theraputic. Every time I was angry or depressed, I went out to tinker on her. She never judged me or made fun of me. She just sat there, and let me find new things to do with her. Many times I daydreamed of cruising the Seawall down on Galveston in her, windows down, cool salt air blowing.
The first time I saw her, it was a cold, rainy day down in La Porte. My dad almost crashed his truck when I yelled at him to stop. She was sitting in a used car lot. The asking price was $5500. She ran and drove, although she tried to go sideways several times in the rain. I had, at the time, $5,000 given to me by the Social Security Administration, because I was an underage minor that lived with a disabled man(my dad) who just went on Social Security Disability. I was young and stupid, and there was a Big Blue Ford sitting in a used car lot that was calling to me.
After hasty negotiations, we agreed upon 5,000 cash drive out. We took her home later that week, driving cautiously with her attached to a tow-dolly.
While I never would admit it, she has been for sale since the first day I got her, with an unofficial asking price of $10,000. I've never put a for sale sign on her, and I've only told people she was for sale as a joke. Because, if I found anyone that could come up with 10-Large in cash, Hell, they could have her.
Well, someone came. They offered me $7,000 for her as-is, $10,000 if I get her running again. My dad told me flat out that I have less than a month to get her running again, or I'll have to sell it.
It's like in Ol' Yeller, when the boy had to kill his dog. That's the way it feels to me. It hurts. Bad.
But, I know he's right. I need the money, and she's just sitting there, slowly getting covered in dust and vermin droppings. Not three houses down is a 1970 Chevrolet C/10 pickup truck that runs and drives, and the guy's only asking $1,500. I can use that as a new toy.
....this must be what it's like to be dumped by someone. It feels like someone ripped my heart out, and stomped on it. Years of hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, going down the drain.
Should I sell her, and take the much-needed money and get things that I desperately need, or should I cling to her blue steel body like a mother clings to the body of her dead son?
The last mutt standing.
The one and only, Cowboy from Hell.
******
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I reach the other side,
I can show him what it feels like to die.
I can show him what it feels like to die.
Bury me with my guns on,
So when I'm cast out of the skies,
I can shoot the Devil right between the eyes.
