Maestro, the music:
Welcome to Free Form Friday, a laissez faire lounge for your college football-free weekends from here to the start of the season. It’s the place for you to talk with your fellow readers about anything or nothing at all, though I usually try to offer at least one potential topic. Sometimes it’s college sports related. Sometimes it’s not. Today’s isn’t even college sports adjacent.
My question for you is this: tell us about your first car. Mine was a 1982 Chevy pickup I inherited
from my grandfather. It was painted a very demure metal fleck silver, and had an eight foot bed suitable for hauling camping gear, lumber, and eventually helping friends move in exchange for pizza and beer. It had a top speed of about 58 miles per hour, at which point the front end and the back end would lose communication entirely like two old spinsters who had a falling out over a spice cake recipe and haven’t spoken to each other since the Carter administration.
Its two moments of crowning glory were:
- The time a brahma bull charged it, lifting the driver side wheels off the ground but otherwise leaving the occupants unhurt.
- The time an Atlantan in a hurry to pick up his fiancé from the airport rearended it outside Macon. Again, no one inside the Chevy was injured, but the boyfriend’s Honda Accord, deployed airbags and all, was borderline unrecognizable. When last I saw its owner he was on the way to the I-16 Huddle House in Bleckley County with the tow truck driver, hoping to salvage his relationship if not his car. This earned the truck the nickname “The Tank.”
We’d love to hear about your first set of wheels, whether super cool or grossly unreliable (or both). Or feel free to talk amongst yourselves about any other subject that tunes your Stratocaster. Until later…
Go ‘Dawgs!!!
