I had a 1968 Ford Mustang, eons ago when I was little more than a young colt. I loved tinkering with my old friend. It was a cool car. It was a great car.
Oh, the good times we had together. We would eight-track our way down the highway, riding the rage. We entertained each other. We were best friends. Yes, we were quite a pair.
Life has its little twists and turns, and we eventually parted company. One of us zigged and, I guess, the other just zagged. He got old and I got responsibilities. I needed a new and more reliable buggy.
We did have a good life together though. I do miss that old horse. I feel like I might have let go of the reins a bit early.
I'd like to rekindle that old relationship. I want to get my hands on one of those old fellas. I want to get behind the wheel of one of them again.
There must be an old pony out there I can breathe new life into. I can make it purr like a kitten. I can shine it like brand-spanking new.
You might say, "Scott, you're not thinking straight."
You could have a valid point. I can delude myself a bit sometimes. It's been known to happen.
It may not be such a great idea after all. It might not be practical, but are dreams supposed to be practical?
Why do we do these things?
It's a mystery to me.
Nevertheless, I'd like to keep thinking about it for now.
Why? Because it's fun and I like it.
I'll keep dreaming and the next time you see me, who knows, I could be rolling around in a flashy old pony car.
Until then, I wish you peace.