Dodge Challenger
I love this car. It’s my favorite car in the whole world. And I know exactly why.
My mom and dad had one when I was little. That’s all. It was a 1974 maroon exterior with white hardtop and white interior. Nothing extraordinary happened in it or with it, I just loved it. Idyllic childhood hopes and dreams and all that. The psychologists are earning their money. I wanted that car more than anything else. But they sold it to the brother of my babysitter when he turned 16 and he promptly ran it into a tree and totaled it completely.
Oh the agony of that news when I was 9 or 10. I think I cried I was so upset. I’m sure if I think about it I can trace back down the years, but it doesn’t really matter now. It was silly to think that my parents could have kept that car for another five or six years waiting for me to grow up. Plus, it only held five of us, and that was pretty tight, and we were going to be six. You could have three kids in the back when I was little–no car seats.
Anyway, when I turned… well, I don’t know exactly; I was an adult and already married, so I had to be over 23; but anyway… I bought my own Challenger.
1974. It was orange, with a black hardtop, black interior and golden mustard trim details; by no means perfect. With a reconfigured motor that we weren’t sure what the original idea for was, held in with chains. Ridiculous. But it drove good and loud and it was all mine.
I loved that car. I loved seeing it sitting in my garage. I loved seeing all its extra parts laying around waiting for the chance to join in the party. I loved hearing it start. I loved that deep rumbling feeling you get in your chest when you are standing so close to too much power. I loved watching it shake and threaten to stall. I loved the way it practically jumped out of my driveway into the street and then I loved every single motor mount we had to replace because they kept breaking off. Not the way I would drive. That would be the ex. I was like an old lady. Just motoring. Slow and happy, not caring to make a lot of noise, just satisfied knowing that I could. And I loved it when the motor was separated from it for the final time and hung desolately from the rafter overhead; downgraded to a motor stand and then finally the floor. And I loved it as I watched it being towed away from my house—flat bedded at least–as it drove down the block and out of sight; sold for reasons that I just can’t get into ever again. And I cried. I cried alot. For the car, for myself, and for what it meant to me in my life, before, and the life I was about to have. I’m crying while I’m typing now. It was just heartbreak all around. It felt a lot worse then, but the memory feels pretty bad now.
I know that probably seems really silly and kind of stupid; overly dramatic; but I don’t care. Time does take care of the small details and its alright now. Everybody has their things that keep them from jumping off the cliff, so you just never know. Be kind.
Anyway, as I was going thru the old pics I have been trying to organize, I found the only two shots known to exist of my parents car.
And I found plenty of pictures of the one I had. It is sad, actually, I took so many pictures of it you would think it was my child.
And I noticed that I seem to have taken pictures of the first new one I saw on the road over the holidays last year. We were driving to Florida and it was in the rest stop. I think this might be a trend for me now…hence the new idea:
The Challenger Post with my old pics, the new ones I find on the road, and any other articles or info that I might gather throughout my daily life.
(I just remembered that I went to the car show when they first got concepted back into reality and I took a bunch of pics with my cell phone. I had it as my front for awhile. But when I needed a new phone my pictures got lost with it…that kind of stinks. I do have one more drawer of crap though, so cross your fingers! Maybe there is a roll of film or something that I forgot about…)
Anyway, again, first set of pics will be below. It’s got to be the new one because the old ones got to be scanned and the scanner is in the bedroom where the boyfriend is sleeping and I don’t feel like explaining what the hell I am doing at one in the morning if he wakes up when I’m not even sure myself. Idiocy and lunacy. It’s late, but I feel ok.
Enjoy the pics and definitely post any pics or comments you have. I know I’m not alone on this car thing. Sleep sweet and dream fast.
just shy of pretty 
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