KING OF THE ROAD
The 1959 Ford Popular left a little to be desired. It had a three-speed gearbox with bakerlite switches and one windscreen wiper. If it rained, you couldn’t see a bloody thing. The color scheme was beige with a pink interior—not what you’d call a chick magnet, but I didn’t care. I was king of the road. After years of riding bicycles, finally here I was with my own set of wheels.
The girl I was in love with at the time lived across the river, nine miles from Dunston. One Sunday night, I dropped her off and reversed out of the cul-de-sac where she lived. The gears jammed, leaving yours truly to reverse nine miles all the way home.
Not the best way to end a date.