It’s almost like being in love

| June 13, 2009

I’m sitting here in LAX, flying home to Denver, and thinking wistfully about the car I got to drive for the last 15 days.

When Sandra and I arrived in LA back on May 29th, I had a Ford Escape reserved at Hertz. I had tried to get a convertible when I had made my online reservations a few days beforehand, but nothing was available. So when we got to the Hertz lot, I went into the Gold Club service kiosk and asked if they had any convertibles, especially Mustangs. The gentleman behind the counter looked through whatever list was on his computer terminal, smiled, and said, “Well, I’ve got a Mustang convertible. And it’s a 2010 model.” I was momentarily startled to realize that 2010 model cars were already out  — 2010 was the second Space Odyssey novel/movie, for cryin’ out loud — but, of course, was thrilled to get it.

And it was a great two weeks.

I drove a ‘66 Mustang (289 V8, dark green, black interior) my senior year of high school (1970-71), but my brother Chip took that car off to grad school at Cornell, where it vanished in the snows and salts of upstate New York. Many years later, I owned the same year and model again (yellow, this time), thanks to my (now-former) mother-in-law, but I gave that car to our son Aaron when we kicked him out of the house, mostly so he’d have transportation and a place to sleep. I’ve rented Mustangs (usually convertibles) from Hertz over the years and enjoyed them, but I’ve never considered buying anything later than a 1966 Mustang (ok, maybe 1967).

Up until now.

In the past two weeks, I really fell in love with this car. It looks great and is the first Mustang styling that I like as much as the 1964 1/2 through 1966 models.

It’s fun to drive — handles great, accelerates great. It’s hard to keep from driving 10-20 MPH over whatever the current speed limit is, just because the car does it so well.

And it draws stares. Seriously. In just two weeks, I had three different people comment on the car, twice from the car next to me while I was waiting at a stop light. And one of those — I kid you not — was a 30-ish woman driving a large red SUV who rolled down her passenger window to tell me that it was a great looking car…and that I looked hot in it.

Folks, I’m 56 years old and packing a lot more pounds than I should. My wife, God bless her, thinks I’m good looking, but she’s blinded by love. (She, on the other hand, is indisputably gorgeous; call it the Billy Joel syndrome.)  I have never in my entire life had a perfect stranger, female or male, pull up next to me at a stop light and comment favorably on my looks. Until last week. Driving the 2010 Mustang Convertible.

(For the record, I looked back at her, probably with a truly startled look on my face, and then said something clever or witty, like, “Uh…thanks!” I then looked forward at the light. When I looked back again, she had rolled her window back up and was staring straight ahead with a tense/unhappy look on her face — probably wondering just why the hell she had said that, and to someone like me, no less. Hey, folks, I’m telling you — it’s the car.)

So now I’m sitting here in the airport, thinking that we may have our Expedition paid off by the end of the summer . . . and wondering what kind of deal I can get from Ford. We could really use a second car, after all. And if I clear out the garage some, we could get a second car inside. Hmm….   ..bruce w..

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Category: Cars

About the Author ()

Webster is Principal and Founder at Bruce F. Webster & Associates, as well as an Adjunct Professor of Computer Science at Brigham Young University. He works with organizations to help them with troubled or failed information technology (IT) projects. He has also worked in several dozen legal cases as a consultant and as a testifying expert, both in the United States and Japan. He can be reached at bwebster@bfwa.com, or you can follow him on Twitter as @bfwebster.

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  1. brucehoult says:

    Strangely, I’ve gotten that on my current motorcycle the entire 14 years I’ve owned it. Even when it’s two years since I last washed it. Weird.