Cars

As just-hitched kids, we drove a Model T Ford with a crank for the engine, and a running board. My big brother sold us his old carriage as a first car for a brand new marriage. Never mind it was his hunting car, repainted and restored to all its former glory, a new conversion to a honeymoon car. In newlywed land without a pot to-you- know-what-in, we had no aversion to second hand. Now, fifty years later (and this may rub-ya) I've got a yen for a two-tailpipe Jaguar, or a BMW. Though I am not fickle, own neither vehicle and true to my origins still modest and practical, I'm not yet ready to go on the shelf. RACY is how I see myself.