Don't Laugh - It's Paid For

With the old Impala consigned to the auto graveyard, the search was on for a new car. I was getting tired of walking to work and the lack of a vehicle was causing some problems. I got off work at 2:30 AM or so and then walked home. The Bountiful Police Department took a dim view of long-haired hippies walking the public streets at that hour of the night. Sometimes I could catch a ride with one of the the other guys at work, but when I couldn't, I had to deal with Officer Burningham. I had to be at school at 7:30 for my first class. I usually slept through that one. My English teacher, June Carnes, was frustrated that I could sleep through her class and still get straight A's. I had done all my homework during the summer and was always able to turn it in on time (including the assignments that were extra credit). Janene and I saw an ad in the paper for a clean one-owner with low miles. I took the money from the insurance settlement (which was not near enough to pay off the loan and used $450 to buy this sharp 1958 Ford Fairlane. It had a 312 motor and a shifter on the column. It turned out that Janene and I thought the car was haunted. It had windshield wipers that ran off the engine vacuum and they would quit whenever you really needed them. I found little tiny switches installed under the seat that were connected to the radio such that if you leaned forward on the seat, the radio would turn off. Boy, I wish I still owned this car. It would be pretty cool to take my grandkids for a ride in a real car. Oh, and yes, those are my hippie peace pants.