The Old Horse

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. 

• The brakes weren't stellar,
• The suspension was sloppy,
• Vapor lock choked the engine at the worst times,
• The solenoid clicked more often than cranked,
• The flywheel had more worn teeth than an old swayback horse, and 
• Things just kept popping-off like the dance of a thousand veils.  

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?

• Is it the restoration of days gone by?
• Is it repairing old wrongs?
• Is it making old things work again?
  or
  
• Is it just a bit of good fun?

​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. 

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