AUTO BIOGRAPHY HAS been part of my life, to one degree or another, for nine years—an admittedly crazy amount of time to devote to any project and about nine times longer than I expected to spend on this one. It has not been my burden alone: All along the way I’ve pestered the book’s cast time and again for details of their lives, have wearied my mentors with worried musings on story structure and pacing, have exhausted the patience of friends who no doubt prayed for me to find something else, anything else, to talk about.
So, to anyone who has crossed paths with me over this book’s long gestation: Thank you. And I’m sorry.
A few folks made contributions vital to the story’s completion, as well as whatever merits it might enjoy. First among them is Tommy Arney, who as I write this is an inmate at the Morgantown, West Virginia, Federal Correctional Institution: Without him—and minus his candor, his enthusiasm for my questions, and his intercession on my behalf with his friends and relatives—there’d have been no story to tell. Arney understood that readers would shrink from some aspects of his past, but he never wavered in his commitment to share it. I salute him for that, and look forward to buying him a beer when he’s next allowed to drink one.
Those close to him likewise endured my presence, often when they were under significant stress. Krista, Ryan, and Ashlee Arney treated me as a family friend. Victoria Hammond, John “Skinhead” McQuillen, and Paul Kitchens helped me in uncountable ways and never failed to make me feel welcome; I likewise could rely on the good cheer of Virginia Klemstine, Al Godsey, Krystle Andrassy, and Ron Young. I’m grateful, too, to Bill Taliaferro, the late Peter G. Decker Jr., and Pete Decker III.
The twelve previous owners of the car and their families trusted me with their stories and made for varied but always gracious company. I am indebted to all of them, but especially those whom I subjected to multiple interviews. As Mary Ricketts died in 2011, I relied on the recollection of others for my reconstruction of her youth. Thank you, Charmaine Clair, Martha Clements, Don Harrison, Julie Hill, Billy Ricketts, Mary Jo “Joey” Rothgery, Kenny Rowe, Barry Scott, Marianne Vest, Sandy Wood, and Carrie Ziegfeld.
Experts filled the chasms in my knowledge about GM, Chevrolet, and automobiles in general. I thank former GM workers Leo Heid, Skip Shiflett, Henry Marshall, and Tom McDonough; Dan Reid; and folks who walked me through the discussion of authenticity in chapter 14—Loren Fossum, Patrick Krook, Ronn Ives, and Richard Todd.
I wrote this book with the support of the Virginia Foundation for the Humanities, through a fellowship at the University of Virginia. Writing at the foundation and living on the Lawn at UVa are experiences for which I will always be grateful. I especially thank Rob Vaughan, the foundation’s president.
At Goucher College, I received essential counsel from four mentors on the story’s overall shape, as well as the ideas lurking behind the action. I will be lifelong fans of Jacob Levenson, Suzannah Lessard, Tom French, and the same Richard Todd I mentioned before. Thanks, too, to Rebecca Markovits, Brian Mockenhaupt, and Mike Capuzzo.
At Norfolk’s Virginian-Pilot, I received help from Tom Shean, Maureen Watts, Jakon Hays, Patrick Wilson, Larry Printz, Denis Finley, and, especially, Tim McGlone.
This story benefited immensely from the sharp mind and pencil of Maria Carrillo, my longtime editor at the Pilot, who has followed VB57B239191 for as long as I have. Maria edited the paper’s December 2004 series about the car, then agreed to read the first draft of what you now hold in your hands—and it’s far, far stronger for her having done so.
My dear friends Mark Mobley and Laura LaFay read early drafts and gave me suggestions that have made this a different and better book. I’ve subjected them to exhausting chatter about the story, far beyond the limits of friendship, but they’ve stayed interested and helpful and continue to take my calls.
Four other friends commented on essentially complete versions of the manuscript. Thank you Diane Tennant, Walt Jaschek, and Cindy and David Fuller.
My agent, David Black, has heard me go on about the wagon since I first met the car. No one has worked harder or longer to help me refine my thinking on this story, and he was tireless in his efforts to find a home for it. He’s the best there is.
At HarperCollins, the book found a champion in Peter Hubbard, who talked it up among the company’s various divisions until the like-minded Cal Morgan took it on. Peter was smart and encouraging in his every contact with me, and edited the manuscript with panache. This is his baby as much as mine.
Finally, friends and family kept me on track during the years I spent reporting and writing the story. I thank my folks, E.V. and Gerry Swift of Bedford, Texas, who were intrigued by the tale from the beginning (despite my dad’s misgivings about its “rough language”); Joe “He Gets All the Facts In” Jackson of Virginia Beach; Boyd Zenner, Ros Casey, and Bill Womack, who brightened my otherwise monastic year in Charlottesville; the aforementioned Cindy and David Fuller of fair Verona, Virginia, who treated me to weekends of lavish meals and wonderful conversation; and my friend and brother Mike D’Orso, who opened his Norfolk home to me during my 2012 reporting trips back to Tidewater.
I owe special thanks to my daughter, Saylor, who has known the story’s cast and followed its action for much of her teens, and who buoyed me with frequent visits to UVa; and the lovely Amy Walton, who was excited by this project from its start, so long ago, and has been its enthusiastic booster all the while, despite its demands on her fiancé’s time and attention—and with whom I am thrilled, at last, to share its completion.