The 2015 A to Z Blogging Challenge
Many Sundry Things
C is for CAMARO
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I’m a motor head. I love cars. I won’t apologize for it. As a girl, I was my Daddy’s Little Princess. I won’t apologize for that, either.
My late father liked cars. His favorite Saturday morning hang-out was at the (relatively) local Sinclair station. Upon occasion, and more frequently as I grew, I was allowed to accompany him instead of grocery shopping with my mother and grandmother.
Dad had a few cars he held in fond regard. The first was a 1955 Pontiac Chieftain and the second a 1959 Chevy Impala. In fact, my parents had a grand total of six Impalas over the years. Dad also (really, really, really!) liked my first car, a 1969 Camaro. If he hadn’t have liked it, no way would I have gotten it no matter how much money I’d managed to squirrel away from doing odd jobs. I was sixteen and in those days his signature was required.
My father taught me how to change the oil, check the belts and hoses, check the antifreeze, replace fuses and lamps, change a tire, check the brakes and rotors. I’m grateful for the time he gave me because those lessons have saved me a lot – A LOT – of money over the years. The add-on computers cars have today might require a technician, but the shop foreman can’t fool me about the mechanical workings of my car and sell me work my car doesn’t need just so he can improve his bottom line.
The 1969 Camaro isn’t something you see on the road much these days. The last forty-five years have decreased the numbers to a precious few, but they do exist. My ’69 Camaro is still on the road, lovingly tended by a fellow who drives it to classic car rallies and such. He stops by every now and again to say hello and I enjoy seeing the pictures of the trophies the car has won. My care, and my father’s, figure into its success.
In my opinion the 1969 was the best Camaro every made. It took Chevrolet forty years to make another Camaro worthy of the name. My current school of thought says drive my Charger for another few years, get a new Camaro, retire, and take that long cross-country drive to see the national parks.
Who says my glory days are behind me?
Once again this year I have to do a little book promo along the way. You won’t know about my books if I don’t tell you about them, right?
C is for Colby Denton of Netting Neptune.
Theron Bowman is in the throes of a mid-life crisis. At forty, he needs to make some serious decisions about his future. He splurges on a two-week vacation in the Caribbean, and like everything else in his life, things go horribly awry and he ends up working to pay for his room.