Magnificent Babe Ride

Hello ….  1957 Pink Pontiac

 

I don’t recommend a sixteen year old taking a

1957 Pink and White Fuel Injected, Duel Carburetor, 330 horsepower Pontiac Star Chief Bonneville Convertible with Factory add-on Continental Kit

 To the Department of Motor Vehicles for the license road test.

Or

 To his honey’s house for his first car date.

Stay tuned for the story in:

Flatlander or The Brothers Ego and Me

I was fortunate my parents were very liberal when it came to letting me have the use of one of their vehicles.  Awesome!  Little did they know.  It was not so splendid for my sweetie’s guardians however.   I had my first motor car date with my honey on that same Freedom Day.  It was still nice that evening when I pulled in front of her house in the pink and white with the top down and the radio blaring.  Stupid move!  Before I could remove my shades and exit the vehicle, I had a visitor and it wasn’t my significant other.

“How fast does this thing go?” rolled of the lips of my sugar’s supreme ruler.  There was no “Hello Peter, good to see you again.  Won’t you come inside while my daughter finishes her primping just for you, and have a coke?”

There was no good answer to her query, so I had to parry the question.

“Well, I don’t really know.  I try to keep it within the speed limit at all times.  I don’t want to get any speeding tickets. I’m a very safe driver.”

“What does the speedometer indicate?”

Oh, oh.  Right to the quick! She could have been a lawyer.

“Well, I never really noticed and anyway that is just for show I have been told.  Nobody except race drivers would attempt to do that.”

“WHAT DOES IT INDICATE,” arose from the depths of her body like a primordial scream.  This was not going well and I only had my license for a few hours.  As usually, the Brothers Ego became deathly quiet as the going got rough.

“One-hundred and twenty,” I quietly mumbled.

“I can’t hear you,” she replied. “Please repeat that.”

“It seems to indicate that a professional driver in a controlled environment with all kinds of safety equipment might be able to achieve a speed of 120 mph,” sprang from my vocal chords as if I was doing a public service announcement.  I heard the Ego Brothers say “Huh? Wrong answer, Pete”

“ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY?”  was the astonished reply of the person who had the ability to prevent me and my honeybun from ever being alone in my BMR. This was getting way, way out of hand. Did she know about my quest last summer to reach the 120 mph mark?  Did she have ESP?   I had to do something and quick.

“I really am a safe driver. I will take good care of you daughter and bring her back, secure and sound by 11:00.  We are going to the passio…, excuse me the Moon-Light Drive-In  and then straight back to Northfield.  I promise.”

To my utter surprise, my answer seemed to put her at ease, to a point.  She responded that if anything untoward happened to her daughter, I would regret living in Northfield.  She made some analogy about a bear and her cubs, the point of which I fully understood.  And with that, my dearest appeared upon the scene, seemingly out of nowhere.

With a “Hi, how are you?” I opened the passenger door and escorted her into the vehicle.  As I slowly drove down the street, I noticed in my real view mirror a very determined mother watching us. Her stare reminding me, as I rounded a corner, of her recent vow.

 

 

 

 

11 Comments

  1. Judi says:

    Is that Gram?

  2. scott says:

    Can’t wait to read the whole story in Flatlander. The website looks great. I’m a little scared of what may be ahead

  3. Joe says:

    Is that my mother driving that thing???

    • vtpeter says:

      No. Judi thought it might be Gram. I have updated that post…

  4. Bill Mayo says:

    Seeing the car brings back memories, old memories.

    • vtpeter says:

      Read the chapter where we hit 105mph as fourteen year olds or 120 mph as a 16 year olds…

  5. Mike B or Micky B says:

    I thought for a moment or two you were dating Jimmie Winters
    then common sense grabbed a hold of me and I realized
    it had to be his mother!

    • vtpeter says:

      Really, Mike. You know it was Jimmy Church from the get go.

  6. micro job says:

    I do not even know how I ended up right here, but I thought this post was great. I don’t know who you are but certainly you’re going to a famous blogger if you are not already Cheers!

    • vtpeter says:

      Thank You. I’m not a famous blogger. This site is a work in process and was established in connection with my memoir, Flatlander Or The Brothers Ego and Me, which I hope to have out by the end of the year. It’s the story of a member of the War Baby Generation (the offspring of the Greatest Generation ) growing up in Vermont during the ‘40s and ‘50s right along side rock ‘n’ roll.

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