Three Loves

     The Galaxie gleams, resplendent in dawning light. Morning dew beads in a myriad of constellations scattered across taught curves and flowing creases, each set just so. Just so that drops collect in small spirals and whorls until gravity overcomes tension and they drain away. Small rivulets gather; minute cascades falling past brightwork shinning and winking that seductive, irresistible come-hither way; and so he does, dragging her into his orbit.

     His breath whistles in and out. She knows the look. He’s gone some place else. “Oh my, they sweated the details on this one,” he murmurs, transfixed by the beauty before them. Smiling indulgently, she pauses with him, arm slipped in that comfortable place, head resting on his shoulder.

     “It is nice,” she replies, knowing well the coming turn, “Kind of pretty.”

     “Oh, it’s more than nice. This is the penultimate year for this model. Look how they folded the beltline into the rear deck. Just the right amount of chrome enhances the crisp, clean lines. They gave up the formal box-top in this model opting for a sleeker design. They followed this even in the convertible roofline. In their journey to perfection they added a slight inward curve to the rear window reducing drag. Every little bit counts. They sought out absolute precision in every detail down to the slight uptick in the rear deck to clean up the airflow passing off the car, letting it slice cleaning through the air.” Glancing at the dual exhausts discretely poking out underneath the rear chrome, he continues in awe, “I’ll bet this model has the 427 CI Thunderbird package. I’d l-o-v-e to hear it rumble. They screwed this one together back when the answer to any speed question was, ‘Hey, Leroy, got room for any more cubic inches under that hood?’” he chortles, laughing at his own joke.

     She smiles up at her man, unseen in her quite joy at his revere. “I don’t know,” she intones, “The wind with the top down would mess up my hair.”

     Astonished, he turns to her, completely missing the mischievous look so quickly effaced; only catching her serious blinking brown eyes. “Oh my no!” he continues sincerity flooding his face, “You’d look great with the sun shining on your hair.” Turning back to the car, “They lavished love and care on this one.” Continuing in a near whisper, “This is a gift, a great gift. I just wish I had the keys to unlock this baby and let her roll”

     Smiling she savors the thought cruising her synapse, “Boys love cars early, before girls...and sometimes after.”