Why Bring It Back?
Strange the memories that present themselves in surprising detail. I remember falling in love with a Ford Mustang. It was 1965, my sophomore year in high school. An acquaintance who lived in the neighborhood was given a new Ford Mustang 2+2 fastback by his mother. It had a 289 ci motor and a four speed transmission. The paint job was white, red interior, with that iconic dark blue, double racing stripe from tip of the hood to the rear bumper. In my bones I just knew that car would be the “golden key,” the ultimate passport to life-long fame, virility, panache for the rest of one’s life. I even remember the name of the guy who owned that car. It belonged to James House. I doubt he’d mind if I use his name. I also remember that he wrecked the car on a snowy winter day. I guess the temptation to take it out on the ice slicked road was just too great. I get it. We were sixteen year old kids at the time.
I’ve fantasized about owning a Mustang of that vintage ever since. Periodically I come upon one that I argue to myself that maybe I could afford. I am pulled back in time by that part of me that is still sixteen years of age, that sophomore. Why do I need to own such a car? Here is a snap shot of the last one that I found. It is not a fastback and the model year is 1969. That is close enough to scratch the itch.
The adult, “reasonable” side of me says “let it go.” Some things are better left alone, some itches not scratched. There are always unforeseeable consequences to everything. One thing leads to another…always. How well I “know” that as an adult.
Having said that, I know that the jury will always be out on whether to buy a vintage Mustang.
1969
by R. S. Gwynn
A dim-lit, smoky bar. Your twenty-first
Birthday has brought a golden Benrus watch,
A marriage, a degree, a double Scotch?
None of which will quite satisfy your thirst.It’s after one. The pianist is playing
Procol Harum’s `A Whiter Shade of Pale.’
You scuff your side-zip boots along the rail
And neither think of leaving nor of staying.Why bring it back again? Surely you know
Your future guns his engine at the door,
And soon enough he’ll steer an exit for
A suburb where you have no wish to go.Why bring it back? Because you want me to.
Because you want to light your cigarette,
Clutching a scene which you cannot forget
Where everything you gaze upon is new.
