Flashback Friday

My '65 Ford Galaxie 500

I was a lucky guy for a few years.  I had some old cars and went to car shows and got a bunch of trophies.  It was a great and relaxing way to spend a day.  Shine her up, have a seat in your lawn chair, watch people drool over your cars.  Fun.  Last week we looked at my 62 Plymouth.  This week we get a look at my 1965 Ford Galaxie 500.

 Baby was the car I loved primarily because she was a special car in her own way.  Again, a bit unloved, and an asterisk in the history of car manufacturing.  She also was special because of the circumstances around which I got her. 

But I have to say, this was my real stud-mobile.  I loved loved the 'vert and often I would gas her up, put the top down, crank up the stereo and take long rides any time of the day.  I often just took off at night and would go to carious places, sometimes around Peoria, or Burlington.  

She wasn't perfect:  she had an electrical problem we finally solved but before that would not always start.  Her interior was a little faded in spots and could have used a re-upholster job.  She also had a crack in her dash, common but a kiss of death with show judges.  

But she wasn't really my show car.  She served as a means to escape - to drift in the revelry of a classic red convertible to Bon Jovi, Meat Loaf, or mixes that I had back then. 

Grandkidling Michael and I would climb in, crank up the music and head for Henderson Street to pick up girls, or so we said to ourselves.  It was a funny joke to two guys, one too old, and one too young, to imagine it really happening.

I was lucky enough to get her cheap from a local Chiropractor who was in the early stages of a contentious divorce and needed to get rid of some toys before they fell into someones else's hands.  Right place at the right time.  

She had pretty good paint on her, but it was more orange than fire engine, which detracted a little from her in the looks department.  She had a cool running 352 engine and ran out very well.  

I had my high school graduation tassel hanging from the rear-view mirror.  It was part of my presentation when I took her to a show.  I'd also put my HS letter jacket in the back.   But she didn't go to too many shows.  She was reserved for cruising.  

She was a great car to ride in, and I absolutely love the feeling of riding in a convertible. Nothing quite like it.  She was also my parade car, and participated in a few, like in Burgess, Grove Street and Aledo.

Here you can see the orange tint in the exterior paint.  

She was just as pretty with the top up.  Well, I may not have her any longer, but perhaps I'll have another convertible someday, who knows.  This old car was special, and if I could turn back time, I'd put this baby in storage somewhere and keep her forever.  But things don't work that way, so she is someone else's treasure now.  I wouldn't want to hog it all for myself anyway - such beauty and joy needs to be shared.  

But damn....

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.   

                            I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

                            I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

                            I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.   

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

                            I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.   

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

                            I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.   

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

                            I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

                            I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.  

I am a dumbass.  I am a dumbass. I am a dumbass.