Smelled like wedding cake
It was the summer of 1991, and I had just graduated high school. I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, how I wanted. I was free. Well sort of. That 11 pm curfew at my parents put a damper on my social life. So did the lack of a car. And while I wasn't ready to move out just yet, I did drop some cold hard cash on a set of wheels. A 1967 Ford Falcon, I named my car Excalibur. Why? Because I was 18, and a rebel without a clue. She was primer black. Everyday I had to pump up the tires. The headlights only worked on bright. The heat had to be turned from behind the dash. And I had to press the gearshift up as I turned the key to get it to start. But that rust bucket was mine. All mine. About a week after I bought it, I was on my way to work. It was raining, and I hit a mud puddle. It was then I realized that, under the shag carpet floor mats, there were big holes in the floor board. I got an unplanned shower, and my lifetime of stories about bizarre things happening to me and my...